


Here for a Reason (or: Carver and Anders on their adventures through DA2 and beyond)

by concernedWallflower24



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: I don't know what I'm doing with my life, I love her, M/M, So much angst, also both Hawkes exist, based off off of the human mage origin in DAO, implied Isabella/Merill/Bethany, it's mostly Garrett but Marian shows up for a little while, one-sided anders/male hawke - Freeform, she's their cousin, someone give anders a hug, sorry if updates are super far apart, these nerds kill my heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 77,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6943633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concernedWallflower24/pseuds/concernedWallflower24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Maker, I have to say, I slept better here than I did on my couch.” </p><p>“Don’t get used to it.” Carver muttered, face flushing. </p><p>That’s right. </p><p>Anders had been asleep… on him. All night. And Marian had gotten up at some point, which meant…</p><p>He grunted, flushing even deeper. </p><p>“What?” Anders raised an eyebrow. </p><p>“Nothing. I’m going to go kick Garrett out of the bathroom.” He replied, and then stood and crossed the room without waiting for a reply. </p><p>Anders stared after him as he went, a content smile on his face, and, from the doorway of the kitchen, Marian grinned. </p><p>"Oh, they’re SO busted."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Anders and Carver meet

“…is ridiculous, she can’t just keep treating mages like this!” Anders complained angrily. “It’s crossing one too many lines, Hawke.” He ran a hand through his hair in distress, and Hawke sighed.

“I know, I agree, but right now there really isn’t much I can do, Anders.” The mage replied. “I’m an apostate just like you, and even if _some_ people like me, that doesn’t mean they won’t still arrest me given the chance. I can’t help anyone from inside a Circle.”

“But we can do more than just _sit_ here!” Anders protested. “There has to be _something_ we can do, right?”

“Besides rally people up?” Hawke sighed. “I swear, I’m doing everything I can. You know that, right? I haven’t sent anyone to the circles, not once. But for now, that’s… really, the best I can do.” Anders could have remained angry, but Hawke had his kicked-puppy face on, and he really did look regretful and torn at the same time, and honestly he just _couldn’t_ stay mad at Hawke, so instead he just sighed and sank back into the couch.

“I know, I know.” He replied. “I’m sorry, just… I know what it’s like inside those circles, and Kirkwall’s is the worst.” He shook his head.

“I know it is.” Hawke agreed. “I’m going to keep looking into this, alright? But… promise me you won’t do anything stupid, yeah?” And then Hawke gave him one of those dorky little grins of his, the ones that made Anders’s heart clench and his fingers tingle.

He shoved the feeling down in lieu of raising an eyebrow and smirking.

“Why Hawke, whatever do you mean? I’d never do such a thing.”

“I’m serious.” Hawke replied. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Well, I _am_ the only healer around.” He said, shrugging. Hawke laughed, shaking his head.

“You really are impossible.” He said. “Is it so hard for you to accept my concern? You’re the closest thing I have to a best friend at the moment, Anders. I prefer it if my friends stay alive, unharmed, and free, yes?”

 _Ah, there it is._ Anders did his best not to wince. _’Best friend’_ _he says._

“I will do my best to stay out of trouble.” Anders finally agreed with exaggerated reluctance. “Just as long as _you_ promise to-“

A knock came on the door, and Hawke’s eyes shot up, and different light coming in them, one of recognition and… excitement. Anders knew who it was before he even said it.

“Fenris is here.”

“Oh, joy.” Anders grumbled. “My favorite pro-circle, glower-y elf.” Hawke didn’t even reply, was already half way across Gamlen’s living room and to the door, pulling it open.

“I need your help.” Anders heard Fenris say, and the elf sounded a bit… stressed, sort of. Whatever, not his problem. He had zero interest in helping the elf. Then Hawke’s head poked back in.

“Sorry, I’ve got to go.” He said, and that hurt worse than it should – Anders always came second to Fenris, everything did, and everyone. “You don’t have to leave if you don’t want – I’ll be back later. There’s not much food, but if you want a sandwich or something help yourself.”

“Sure.”

“Sorry about this.” Hawke was already half way out of the house. “Bye, Anders.” The door closed. Anders sighed.

“Bye.”

“Oh _good_ , he left one of his loud, obnoxious friends behind.” The voice was unfamiliar and sounded almost… insulted, and Anders, looking up, recognized the speaker to be Hawke’s younger brother, Carver.

“Ah, so you _do_ exist.” Anders said. “I’ve heard about you, but often times you’re so far back into his hole that I was beginning to doubt it.” The boy rolled his eyes. He looked similar to Garrett but was also completely different – his hair was the same color, but while Hawke’s tended to stick up every which way and curl at the most inopportune places, Carver’s was straight and hung flat against head. His jaw was narrower, face taller (and far more grumpy) and his eyes were blue, instead of gold. Like… _really_ blue. His skin was paler, too, but he looked stronger – which also made a sort of sense. He wasn’t a Mage, and Hawke said he preferred a sword. Swinging a staff around wasn’t easy, but it had nothing on one of those long swords.

“And you wonder _why_ I avoid my brother’s friends.” He muttered, walking across the kitchen. “I thought I heard him leave.”

“He did.”

Carver paused, and frowned at him.

“And you’re still here?”

“He had more important matters to attend to.” Anders replied. “Starting with ‘Fen’ and ending with ‘ris’ with a big pile of ‘brooding circle-lover’ in the middle, there.” Carver grunted.

“Don’t remind me. Honestly, with him, it’s always ‘Fenris this’ and ‘Fenris that’. Bethy and mom think it’s cute. I think it’s gross.” He made a face. “Simply because it’s Garrett, and they’re just so _novel-fantasy_ that it’s…” He groaned again. “Whatever, he can do what he wants. Not like he cares about my opinion anymore anyways.”

“Here, here.” Anders agreed. There was a pause. Then Anders said, “You know, your brother can be an ass.”

And the younger Hawke smirked.

“Now that, we both agree on.”


	2. In which Anders is exasperated and concerned

“Hawke, you can’t keep brooding in here alone, you’re as bad as the elf.” Anders pounded on the door. “There are things we need to do, come on.” There was silence from within, and he sighed. “What’s going on with you, Hawke? Come on, let me in.” Anders entreated one more time. And after a moment, the door opened.

Hawke stood there, rather disheveled looking, still in his robe and slippers.

“Anders. Sorry, I was sleeping.” He yawned. “What’s up?”

“Obviously not you.” Anders raised an eyebrow, and Hawke waved a sleepy hand.

“Hey, can’t a man get a few hours of sleep between running around and saving people?” He muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “ ‘s not a crime, right?”

“No, but hiding away for two whole days might be.” Anders replied. “Do you _know_ the number of times Aveline’s stopped by to ask if I’ve seen you? I swear, she was _this close_ to marching over here herself.” He crossed his arms.

“Sorry, sorry…” Hawke frowned, stepping back, and Anders marched in. “I’ve been… busy.”

“Busy, you?” Anders rolled his eyes. “Never.” Hawke just gave him a grin and a little shrug. “But what _is_ unusual is that no one has _seen_ you, which means you’ve been busy _by your self_ , which is _dumb._ But of course you know that, would never wander around places by yourself in some mis-placed sense of protection, right?” Anders fixed him with an accusing glare.

Hawke stared innocently back.

“What gave you that idea?” He asked easily, turning and walking to Gamlen’s feeble little kitchen. Anders sighed.

“Merrill told me what happened the other day.” He said. “There was no way you could have stopped it.”

“I could have.” Hawke said firmly. “I… should have. If it’d been you, or Merrill, or Varric, or… or _Fenris_ , I…” he shook his head. “I wouldn’t…” he shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m done doing it by myself, anyways. I miss you guys, and honestly, I’m really just not strong enough to do this all by myself. I just needed some space to think about things.”

“You’re plenty strong, Hawke.” Anders said, and wow, he’d meant that as a joke, but why did his voice get so soft? “Andraste knows how much you’ve dealt with since coming here. Although yeah, going off by yourself any more is a big fat no, because if you end up my clinic I’m going to be _pissed_ , got it?” He shoved Hawke’s shoulder, and the mage chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” He said. “I get it. Sorry.” He hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something else but wasn’t sure if he should, and Anders rolled his eyes.

“Just ask, Hawke. Seriously.”

“No, it’s just… did Fenris…?”

 _And there it is, once again._ Anders gave a dramatic sigh even as his heart clenched.

“Oh, how did I know?” he asked the ceiling. Then he said, “Yes, Hawke, your broody elf actually _did_ come by to ask if I’d seen you. Scared half my patrons, too. Bloody brooding elf with his stupid sword that’s _literally taller than he is_ , just marches in and… ugh, I just do not understand what you see in him.”

Hawke’s face reddened.

“Wh-what?” He squeaked. “He’s a _friend._ ”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Anders replied flatly. He rolled his eyes. “Anyways, he’s probably locked himself up thinking it was his fault, as per usual, because you two are _idiots_. And while I care about seeing you, I honestly don’t care to walk to his gross corpse-infested house and drag him out, so you’ll have to do it yourself.”

_Why do I do this to myself?_

“B-but it’s not his fault!” Hawke gasped. “Why would he think that?”

“I don’t know, you just disappear, people tend to think you’re angry, and of course he’d rather sit there and hate himself than come and just ask.” Anders shrugged.

“I… guess you’re right, I should go talk to him… And Aveline, too. And I need to find Merrill… oh! I was supposed to see Varric about that favor for his friend…” Hawke began pacing, and then he looked over. “Sorry, I’m going to go change. Mind waiting a minute?”

“That depends. Where will you be going first? Because if it’s to visit Mr. Tall, Dark and Broody, I’m going to opt out. Don’t need our arguing to spoil your visit.”

Hawke blushed again, and while normally Anders would feel accomplished, instead he just felt vaguely sick.

“A-are you sure?”

“Yes, Hawke, I’m quite sure.” He looked around.

“Alright… well, I’ll see you later, then?” Hawke asked, that kicked-puppy, torn-and-guilty look on his face again.

Anders thought for a moment, and then groaned.

“Ugh, fine, _fine_ , I’ll go with you. But I’m staying outside.” Hawke’s face lit, and he nodded.

“Sure, thanks. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into his room. Anders just stood there for a moment, and then sighed.

Then a voice said, “Why do you do that?”

He jumped and whipped around, only to see Carver standing in the doorway. Anders relaxed slightly, and then shrugged.

“Not _quite_ sure what you mean?” Carver just studied him silently for a moment. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“You like him, don’t you?” He asked flatly. Anders was confused for a moment, and then blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“Garrett.” Carver answered, rolling his eyes. “You know, guy that just left with the annoying face paint and constant emotional crises? My older brother?”

_Oh._

“Sure, I like him.” Anders shrugged nonchalantly. “Why _else_ do you think I bother to follow him around all the time?” Carver just kept staring at him. “What? Am I _not_ supposed to like him?”

“That _isn’t_ -”

The door opened, and Hawke walked out, and thank god crisis averted because there was _nothing_ more awkward than _talking about his stupid little crush_ with his stupid little crush’s _little brother._

“Are you ready to go yet?” Anders asked Hawke. The other mage looked around, and then shrugged.

“Guess so.” He caught sight of his brother, and blinked in surprise. “Carver?”

“What? Surprised I still exist?” his brother replied, glaring. Hawke frowned.

“What?” He asked in confusion. “No, I-“

“Just go do your thing, Garrett. I’ve got to go shopping for Mom anyways.” And then Carver walked across the room and out the door before Hawke could reply. The mage stood there for a minute.

“What… just happened?”

“Well, you haven’t exactly been home a lot.” Anders said. “I’d assume he’s feeling rather ignored.”

“No, no… that’s not it.” Hawke shook his head. “He’s always like that when I’m around.” He sighed. “I know he blames me for Bethy getting hurt, and this…place, and not being home, _really_ home, and… I _really_ need to talk to him, but there’s just _no time_ for anything!”

“Well, _maybe_ let the rest of us handle something once in a while and actually spend time with your family, Hawke.” Anders said. “But, you know, tell people first so they don’t think you’ve just disappeared.” Hawke hesitated.

“I’ll… think about it.” He said. “It’s hard to find a time when everyone is home, anyways. Mom usually leaves first thing in the morning to go spend time with her friends, somewhere out of this…place.” He looked around, frowning. “Bethany and Carver normally go the market during the day, and I don’t bother to keep up with where Gamlen goes.”

“Hawke, you’re their brother, not their shield. Helping people is all well and good, but you need to be with them sometimes too.” Anders commented.

“I know, but…” Hawke got that torn look again. Then he shook his head. “Ugh. Never mind. Come on… let’s just go.”

Anders sighed and followed Hawke out. And as much as it hurt being around him, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Because if he left, who else was going to take care of him? _Fenris?_ That elf couldn’t even take care of himself! Aveline would try, but she had her own life. Varric…

Well, he was Varric.

No, there was only one person who could keep Hawke together and as out of the way of danger as possible, and that was Anders. And fuck it, even if he _wanted_ to leave, he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

Because Hawke was Hawke.

And because yes, he _liked_ him, dammit Carver.


	3. In which Carver is Not, In Fact, Dumb

Carver was not, in fact, dumb.

He noticed a whole lot of things, things that other people didn’t. Because he preferred to sit and quietly judge everyone else from the back corner of the room. Because he was Carver Hawke, because he was unimportant and not special in the least, because he was the littlest Hawke who was _always_ pushed into the background.

His older brother, well. He was all heroic and magic-y and fancy, with tons and friends and inside jobs and the broody elf boyfriend. And Bethany, she was also all magic-y, and smart, and explore-y, and everyone just _adored_ Bethany because she was a twin and she was smart and cute and whatever else. But Carver, well. He was the odd one out, wasn’t he? Always was, always would be. No magic, no money, no home. Sure, there was Gamlen’s place but that wasn’t _home._ Home was Fereldan. Home was where they’d escaped from.

Home was the destroyed building outside of Lothering. They could have stayed, could have fought back, could have… kept it standing, somehow. But Hawke had made the executive decision to leave. Because he was afraid he wasn’t strong enough to keep them all safe.

Carver was not, in fact, dumb.

He knew how strong his brother was, even if Garrett didn’t. He _knew_ was Garrett could do. And Carver… he wasn’t a child. And neither was Bethany. They could have protected themselves… But instead while running away like chickens, the stupid Oger had come and Bethany had almost _died._ She almost died and the only one who seemed to care anymore was _him,_ and…

“Ugh.” He groaned at himself and shook his head. “Fucking _Garrett._ ” He cursed.

“What’d he do this time?”

Carver jumped and whipped around from his position at the kitchen counter, where he’d been assembling a rather messy sandwich – messy because he’d been pretty much throwing the pieces together in his grumpiness. He’d been so absorbed that he hadn’t heard the knocking on the door, or the creaking as said door was pushed open and Anders had walked in. The Mage stood in the doorway, looking rather amused, arms crossed against his chest.

“How long have you been there?” he asked grumpily, trying not to let his surprise show, because he was Carver Hawke, and Carver Hawke was Garrett Hawke’s grumpy little brother, right?

“Mmh.” Anders shrugged.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Nope.”

Carver just studied the Mage for a moment, then rolled his eyes and turned back around.

“If you’re looking for Garrett, he’s not here.”

“What a shame, looks like I’ll have to spend time with you instead.” Anders said and walked up beside him. Carver paused.

“What?” he asked flatly.

“Well, I can’t leave until Garrett gets home, and I’d really hate to sit by myself in the kitchen all alone…” the mage said. Carver rolled his eyes.

“Second to Garrett again, then. Good to know.” He muttered, and slammed the top of the bread on before turning to march off to his room. He went about two steps, and then there was a surprisingly strong, warm hand on his arm holding him back.

“Whoa, that isn’t what I meant.” Anders said, laughing slightly. “Come on, please? You know, the way to make friends is to _talk_ to people, not shutting yourself up in that room.” And wow, Carver really _didn’t want to talk to this guy_ but also what other choice did he have, seeing as Anders was already guiding him towards the living room.

When they got there, however, there was a dog on the couch, sleeping rather soundly, and Anders flinched.

“Ah.” He muttered. “Miles. Why didn’t Hawke take him with him?”

“I don’t know.” Carver shrugged. “Half the time he leaves him home, anyways. I guess it depends on what he’s doing.”

“Ah.” Anders was looking at the Mabari rather distastefully. “I don’t suppose he listens to you, then?”

“No.” Carver glared accusingly at the animal. “Only Garrett. It drives Bethy and Mom crazy, but unless they’ve got treats for him, he won’t budge.” He frowned. “He used to listen to my dad, but, you know…”

“I’m sorry.” Anders said quietly.

“Why are you apologizing, it’s not _your_ fault he got sick.” Carver muttered, face flushing. He hadn’t meant to get sympathy from the Mage, it was just a side comment… one of those things he’d normally say in his head but not aloud because he never talked aloud unless it was to Mom or Bethy, or a client he was helping, in which case he didn’t say much anyways.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry.” Anders shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t understand dogs. Cats are much better companions.” Carver made a face.

“Cats?” he asked. “They don’t _do_ anything.”

“Excuse you!” Anders protested, aghast. “Sir Pounce-A-Lot was one of the best warriors I ever knew! Such a shame… poor little guy. I hope he’s still doing alright.” Carver blinked.

“Tell me you’re joking.”

“What?” Anders asked. “Joking about what?”

“You _didn’t_ name your cat Sir Pounce-A-Lot.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Anders nodded enthusiastically. “I found him when he was little while I was still with the Wardens… He’d ride around in my robes! You know, he swiped a darkspawn on the nose once. Fierce little guy, Sir Pounce-A-Lot. Might not have been able to hold sword or cast a spell, but he was a brave little bugger.”

Carver wasn’t sure how to respond, so instead he just. Stared at him.

“What?” Anders shrugged. “Cats are just… so _warm_ and huggable. Dogs are all bony and large and slobbery, and…” he shuddered, sending Miles another disapproving glare.

“They’re not too bad.” Carver shrugged. “But then, I _am_ from Fereldan. Love of dogs just runs through us, I guess. That’s what dad would say.” And dammit, that was the second time. He winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…“

“No, no, it’s fine.” Anders assured him, laughing slightly. “Garrett never talks about him, so I don’t actually know much. Sometimes I wish I did – from what I _do_ know, he was a pretty interesting guy.”

“Dad?” Carver scoffed. “Yeah, he was certainly _’interesting’_ I guess. He was a Mage too, you know. He was born in Fereldan, but got sent to the Kirkwall circle when he was a teenager, or something. He met Mom here. Her family didn’t actually approve.” He shrugged. “But of course, Dad didn’t care about that. He was… basically Garrett, but older and more stubborn.”

“Oh dear.” Anders laughed.

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” Carver rolled his eyes. “Garrett and Bethany, they’re both like him. But then, they actually got to spend time with him, so.” Anders stopped laughing and frowned.

“What?”

Carver paused.

“I didn’t actually mean to say that.” Shit. “Or… fuck, never mind, okay?” he turned away and glared at the floor.

“Okay.” Anders said, and Carver blinked. He’d expected the mage to push, to keep asking, but…

He turned back, frowning slightly. Anders held his hands up in surrender.

“Hey, we’ve all got things we don’t want to talk about.” He said. “Besides, I _finally_ got you to actually have a conversation, no way I’m going to mess that up by making you angry.” He grinned at him. Carver tried to keep the embarrassed flush out of his cheeks.

“I _do_ talk to other people.” He muttered.

“Yes, well, now you talk to me too.” Anders replied easily. Carver just stared at him. Then he felt something bubbling in his stomach, and then…

…Then he was laughing. Which is something he hadn’t done in… a truly long time. Ander’s eyes widened, and then he was laughing to, and then-

Then the door opened, and one Garrett Hawke started to walk but instead froze, staring at his younger brother…

…who was standing in the middle of the living room with _Garrett’s_ best friend, head tossed back and a smile on his face, still holding his long-forgotten, mostly-destroyed anger sandwich. Hawke’s mouth dropped open slightly. Carver was _laughing_ , like _actually_ laughing, not the fake little chuckle he’d give Leandra sometimes, or the that’s-funny-but-not-really snigger he’d give his siblings. No, this was a full on belly laugh.

It stopped abruptly when Carver caught sight of him, though. The younger sibling froze just as still has Garrett had upon entering, and then quickly turned and set the plate down on the arm of the couch without saying a word. Anders’s laughter died soon after, but the smile stayed on his face as he said, “Ah, Hawke, finally home then, are you?”

“I… uh, yes?” He blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I _was_ looking for you.” He shrugged. “But then Carver offered to keep me company, and I just _couldn’t_ refuse.” Carver frowned indignantly.

“That’s _not_ what-“

“Unfortunately your _dog_ has taken reign of the couch.” Anders continued, cutting him off and glaring distastefully at the Mabari once more. Hawke looked at the animal and smiled.

“What, Miles? He’s a big sweetheart, he would have moved if you’d asked him. Right, boy?” he called. The Mabari, hearing his name, poked his head up. Then he saw Hawke, and a moment later was bounding across the floor, (pushing between both Anders and Carver so that they wobbled on their feet for a moment, the former protesting loudly and the latter just grunting and saying, “Dammit, Garrett”), and then promptly leapt into the air and landed on Hawke’s chest, shoving him against the wall with an excited bark and a lick to the face. Garrett laughed, rubbing his ears affectionately, the dog’s paws still firmly planted against his shoulders, standing on to legs to lean his full weight against the mage.

“Alright, good boy, come on, get off.” Hawke said, and the dog gave one last happy lick before hopping off onto the ground once more.

“Good boy? _Good boy?”_ Anders demanded. “He almost ran Carver and I over!” Hawke gave him a grin and shrugged.

“It was an accident.”

Anders and Carver both scoffed at the same time, and Hawke blinked, looking between them again. “Anyways, what did you need me for, Anders?” He asked. Anders sighed.

“I came to deliver a message from one of the nice ladies you helped to my clinic the other day.” He said.

“Oh.” Hawke said in surprise. “Is she alright?”

“Oh, yes.” He said. “She just wanted me to tell you she said ‘thank you’ and was very insistent that I do it in person with _sincerity_ since she couldn’t come herself.”

There was a pause.

“Oh.” Hawke repeated, this time more… confused, or perhaps a little concerned. “Well, uh… okay. Tell her I said ‘you’re welcome’ then, I guess?”

“I’m not a Maker forsaken letterman!” Anders rolled his eyes. “Come down and talk to her yourself if you want.”

“Maybe later.” Hawke yawned. “For now… For now I’ve gotta…” he yawned again. “Gotta…”

“Got to get some sleep.” Anders said firmly. “What in the void were you doing?”

“Stupid fucking _mining tunnels_ …” Hawke grumbled, closing the door behind him. Anders frowned.

“What?”

“There’s this guy in hightown-“

“You know what, tell me about it later.” Anders said, taking the man’s arm. Carver found himself in the background again, as usual. Garrett walked in, and suddenly he just… disappeared into the void, for all anyone else was concerned. That’s how it always wa-

“Carver, your brother is an idiot.” Carver looked over to see Anders dragging a half-asleep Hawke by the arm. “Remind me to yell at him for this when he’s more aware and can actually register the fact that he’s an idiot and I’m telling him so, okay?”

“Oh, uh… sure?”

“Thanks. Wait a minute, I’ll be right back, got to get his tired ass in bed before he just keels over in the middle of the living room.” Anders said.

“I can get myself to my room.” Garrett protested. “I’m not _that_ tired. I yawned what, all of two times?”

“Just shut up and go, would you?” Anders complained, and Hawke laughed tiredly, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, yes, Doctor, let me just-“ a shove from Anders cut his brother off, and made both Mages laugh as they disappeared around the corner. Carver suddenly found himself alone.

He sat on the couch to wait. He glanced at his sandwich. He found he wasn’t very hungry anymore. He sighed. He looked at the door. He frowned. And then he thought.

He was not, in fact, dumb, after all.

He could tell by the way the mage acted around his brother, the way he fussed over him, the way he looked at him.

The way he flinched whenever Fenris was brought up.

It didn’t make sense to Carver, why Anders kept coming back if he knew that Garrett was never going to respond the way he wanted him to. And he wouldn’t – Carver knew his brother, but he also knew how fate worked. You reach for something you want, you try so hard to earn it… but it chooses a different path, every time.

It did with his father, it did with his home, and it did with his brother. _Wanting_ did no good… it was better not to hope at all rather than to be shut down after hoping for so long.

Wasn’t it?

“Ah, and I return.” A voice said, and then Anders walked back in, grinning.

Carver scowled and picked up his sandwich.

“Aw, come on.” Anders frowned. “I was gone for five minutes. You can’t have reverted back to grumpy Carver again, can you?”

“I don’t understand.” He said, and whoa, why was he talking aloud again?

“Well, see, _before_ , you were talking, and _now_ , you’re-“

“Why do you keep following him if all it’s going to do is hurt you?” Carver cut him off flatly. He wasn’t sure why his mood had shifted, other than that Garrett had gotten home, but for some reason this was important to him, and he realized he genuinely did want to know he answer.

Because maybe, if Anders’ reason was a good one, then he could stop asking himself the same question. There was a pause, however, and it occurred to Carver that the mage night not answer at all, and that the question had been… rather invasive, and probably kind of rude. He opened his mouth to say never mind, to excuse himself so he could just… walk away, or disappear or something, but then the mage sighed.

“Am I really that obvious?” He asked. Carver didn’t reply, just kept watching him. Anders sighed again and sat down beside him on the other side of the couch, staring across the room. “Honestly, I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve asked myself the same question.” He paused. “But, then, I guess I’ve kind of started realizing things are _bigger_ than just me. What your brother does… helps people, and I want to be apart of that. Besides, we apostates have to stick together.” He frowned. “Damn Templars might just pop out of nowhere one day, and grab him, or your sister, and if I wasn’t able to do anything just because I was off sulking in my clinic, well.” He smiled ruefully. Then he looked at Carver, finally, and said, “I know Garrett can be a huge ass, and he tends to be _incredibly_ oblivious, and his blatant disregarding of danger to help _everyone_ even if he knows it’s going to get him into trouble might get him killed one day, and he’s painfully cheerful even when it’d probably be better to take things seriously… And I’d assume whenever he’s home he’s sleeping because he just does way too much outside and not near enough inside.” He paused.

“I could help with all that, though!” Carver exploded, and then glanced at the door behind which his brother was sleeping and winced, although he was still mad. He lowered his voice. “When we first got here, it was just me and him. But as soon as he met you and your little party of vigilantes, I got left home. And it’s always been that way.” He glared at the floor. “I understand he’s busy. I _understand_ why he can’t be home. I _get it,_ he’s got things to do, and those things save people. I’m not _that_ selfish.” He spat. “But if he could just pull his head out of his ass long enough to realize that he doesn’t have to take all of it by himself, then maybe he _could_ be home more.”

Why was he talking so much? Why was he saying these things aloud? And to Garrett’s best friend, of _all people._ Speaking of whom, Anders hadn’t said anything yet. He was just watching the younger man with… understanding? What did _he_ know? He didn’t know anything! He wasn’t the one in the shadow, at least he was _important_ to Garrett still, even if it wasn’t the way he _wanted_ to be.

“He feels guilty.” Anders spoke without Carver realizing his mouth had moved. “He told me one night, about the way here. What happened to your sister, how she almost died.” Carver stilled. Garrett never talked about those months, escaping Fereldan, the boat ride to Kirkwall, doing dirty work to get into the city. “And to be honest, he doesn’t like bringing the rest of us along with him either. Do you know the number of times he’s tried to go off on his own and do things? Luckily, there’s always _someone_ nearby to keep an eye on him, so he usually doesn’t get far. But…” Anders paused, and then laughed slightly. “Harsh as it sounds, he’d rather one of us get hurt than you or your sister.”

Carver frowned.

“What?”

“You guys are family.” Anders said. “We’re friends, but you and Bethany and Leandra? You’re the only family he’s got left. Why would he risk you getting hurt when he doesn’t have to?”

“That’s absolutely _dumb._ ” Carver said flatly, and Anders chuckled.

“I never said it wasn’t.” he replied. “And I mean, knowing that doesn’t fix anything, probably, but you _should_ know. He still cares about you, he’s just really, _really_ crappy at showing it.”

“No kidding.” Carver muttered. He looked at his brother’s door again, wondering if what the Mage said was true, wondering if… if Garrett… “Ugh, he’s an _idiot._ ”

“Here, here.” Anders agreed, laughing again. There was a comfortable pause, and then Carver frowned.

“Did you _really_ come all the way here and wait all that time just to tell him thank you from a lady in your clinic?”

Anders didn’t reply. Instead he stood, grinned at him, and said, “Well, guess I’d better be going. It was nice talking to you, though, Carver. Honestly, we should talk more. Complaining about your brother is fun.” He laughed. Carver tried not to smirk, but it was hard, because for _some reason_ it was just so _easy_ to be around this Mage. “If you’re ever bored or annoyed, stop by the clinic. Get Garrett to show you where it is, sometime. Maker knows I could use more decent company.” He walked towards the door, and Carver realized he should probably say something, but _what_ , and _how_ , and _dammit, now that I actually WANT to say something, I can’t think of a single Maker forsaken thing-_ , and-

“Anders.”

The mage paused, and shit, he hadn’t gotten past that, he said a name, but now what, stupid, what was he-

“Uh, well… never mind.” His voice was gruffer than he meant it to be, and that’s not _saying something_ , that’s just _dumb_ , and _what am I even trying to do anyways,_ and-

“You’re welcome, Carver.” Anders smirked, stopping his frantic thoughts. Carver blinked, and when he opened his eyes the mage had already walked out the door. Carver flushed, and then heard the thud as the door shut once more.

Then, feeling almost… sad, he whispered, “Thanks.”


	4. In which Carver is Done Being Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carver and Bethany decide to tag along with Garrett on his trip to the mines, and various adventures ensue~

“Carv! Hi!” Bethany blinked as he walked out of his room, stretching. He blinked.

“You’re home late.” He muttered. “Don’t you normally go off with mom by now?”

“Ugh, I just _can’t_ spend any more time with those women!” Bethany shook her head. “I figured it’s about time you and I did something. Take me with you, come on. Please? Garrett said he’s got to go back to those mines, and wouldn’t let me come, but I’m _bored_.” Carver frowned. There it was again, Garrett pushing them back. He thought back a few days ago, to what Anders had told him.

And then he set his jaw.

“We’re going with him.” He said firmly. She blinked.

“What?”

“Garrett. I’m tired of being left behind. So let’s just go.” He turned towards his brother’s room. “Is he still here?”

“I… I think so. But you know how he is, he won’t let us co-“

“Garrett!” He pounded on the door.

“Carver, what’s gotten into you-“

The door opened, and Garrett poked his head out.

“Carver?” he asked, standing there with his pants on but his shirt still across the room. “What’s up? Are you okay?” Carver rolled his eyes.

“Maker help me, stop asking that.” He said. Then he fixed his brother with a glare. “You’re taking us with you today.” He said flatly. Garrett blinked.

“Uh… what?”

“Wherever it is your going.” He said. “You’re taking us.”

Garrett blinked, processing, and then sighed.

“Carver, it’s not-“

“I’m done being left behind.” He crossed his arms. “We’re not babies anymore, Garrett.”

“I know, but-“

“He’s got a point.” Bethany stepped forwards, and Carver felt a little bit of pride sweep through him. “We could help you, Gar. _And_ you’d be able to keep an eye on us.”

“But that’s the thing.” Garrett shook his head. “I _can’t_ keep an eye on you, not if we’re fighting, and I don’t want-“

“Maker, Garrett, when did you stop trusting me?” Carver snapped, anger flaring. Garrett blinked.

“What?”

“Do you remember when we first got here? And it was just us? You didn’t have your fancy new staff, or your posse of friends, or anything. Did I _ever_ let you down?” Carver demanded, thinking back to those days of just wandering around, doing jobs for Meeran, looking for other work when they had the chance. They hadn’t done so bad, back then! So why was he being left behind now?

“No, of course not, but-“

“Andraste’s ass, Garrett, shut up and take me with you.”

“Me too.” Bethany agreed. “I’ve been fine for months now, Garrett, and I’m _sick_ of just sitting around.”

Garrett looked between the twins, obviously debating. Then he sighed.

“Fine, fine. Get your stuff, I’ll be leaving in a few minutes.” Hawke said, and triumph shone in Carver’s grin. Bethany too smiled brightly, but their older brother just sighed and shook his head. The three of them (after Garrett grabbed his shirt) went to the kitchen, and Carver helped Bethany cook breakfast. Then he went and grabbed his sword.

It felt good, strapping it onto his waist. Like it belonged there.

“So,” Bethany said, sliding her staff into its pocket on the back of her robes, “where exactly are we going?” both twins looked at their brother expectantly.

“The Mines.” Garrett sighed. “There was another cave in, and Hubert – he’s my partner – asked me to go check for survivors, and to see if we can get anyone else out.” He hesitated. “Just… be careful to watch out for falling rocks. The walls around these things are unstable, so don’t touch them. If we get separated just stay put and I’ll find a way to get the wall open. Don’t waste your time shouting unless you can hear my voice too, because you don’t want to waste oxygen.” He frowned. “I think… that’s everything Aveline told me the first time. Oh, and try not to make a lot of noise. It attracts the dragons.”

His siblings stared at him. He blinked.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“What the _fuck,_ Garrett.” Carver cursed.

“Dragons?” Bethany’s face lit up. “Wait, for real? Like, _real dragons?”_

“And what do you mean, ‘partner’? Partner for _what?”_ Carver continued. ‘Partner’ as in… _partner?_ Because wasn’t that supposed to be Fenris? Or partner like _business_ partner, in which case it was _still_ what the fuck?

“I want to see a dragon!” Bethany exclaimed, not noting the importance of Garrett’s words like Carver did and also earning a wary glance from both her brothers. “From a distance.” She amended quickly.

“Trust me, you don’t.” Hawke muttered, and what did _that_ mean? “Anyways, yeah. I helped XXX clear the mine once when a lot of the men were refusing to work because of the dragon infestation…” he winced. “That… was bad. There was _real_ dragon. Big one…” he shuddered. “I really hate dragons.”

 _”You fought a Maker forsaken DRAGON and DIDN’T TELL ME?”_ Carver demanded, shocked. He shook his head incredulously. _Really, should I even be surprised with him anymore?_ He cursed to himself again. “When?!”

“Hmm… few months ago. “ Garrett replied, and somehow that made it _worse_ because that meant it was _recent._ “Remember, you were mad because I’d said I’d only be gone a week but it was actually like two?” He said. “Yeah, we were fighting it and Fenris… uh, got chomped on, and… I mean, I just stayed to make sure he was alright, I swear, and I was…” Now Hawke was blushing all the way up to his ears, but honestly Carver could give less of a fuck about his brother’s romance crises at the moment. “I was at the clinic making sure he…um.”

“Aww!” Bethany squealed, oblivious to her twin’s anger. “Garbear, that’s _adorable!”_ She paused, frowning. “Well, not the ‘getting eaten by a dragon’ part. But everything else? Totally cute.”

Carver grimaced, silently disagreeing.

“U-uh, sure. Anyways.” Garrett turned back to his younger brother. “So after I got back from that, XXX said he’d give me a portion of the mine if I promised to help out whenever things got bad, such as cave-ins or dragon attacks.”

Carver just kept staring at him. He was honestly speechless. _I mean, I knew he went and did things, but I never thought…_

“What?” Hawke asked again.

“You own a portion of the mine… and didn’t bother to _tell_ me?” Carver finally demanded, and wow his voice was sharper than he meant it to be. Hawke winced.

“I mean, it was never something we talked about…”

“That’s because we never _talk_ , Garrett.” Carver snapped. “You’re too busy off fighting _dragons_ apparently.”

“I didn’t know there was going to be a big dragon!” He protested.

“You wouldn’t have told me anyways.” Carver shook his head in agitation.

Garrett whet to reply, but realized there was nothing he could say, and thus just stood there with his mouth open for a moment.

And that made it worse. So much worse. Because he didn’t even regret it. He’d keep doing it, keep going into dangerous fights on his own, keeping hiding things from them. And he didn’t see the problem with that. Instead he just stood there. Both of them did.

Carver got angrier by the second, waiting for a reply. After a moment, Garrett seemed to recognize this, and then seemed to settle with, “I’m sorry, Carver.”

And, no.

“You aren’t.” His brother snapped, turning on his heel.

“Carver-“ Bethany tried, but her twin just stalked out of the house, slamming the door behind him. He couldn’t deal with anymore, family be dammed. He waited outside for a few minutes, and then heard the door open and both his siblings walked out. Carver refused to look at his brother, not wanting to see his kicked-puppy face that he just _knew_ was there, because it was _always_ there when Carver was around. Garrett almost said something to him; he could feel his siblings eyes on his back. But then he must have decided against it, because instead he just set off in the direction of hightown.

Carver and Bethany followed silently behind him.


	5. In Which Carver is Protective Little Brother #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love Carver and he's precious, this is mostly a FenHawke chapter as far as shipping goes tbh but it's got Carver being fantastic so~

Carver decided he hated the mines.

Actually, he _more_ than hated the mines. He _abhorred_ them. They were dark and dirty and they _smelled_ like you wouldn’t believe, and there were squeaking noises from unseen sources, and-

His foot hit something squishy and he froze.

“Garrett?” he muttered, and his brother turned, the fire from his hand lighting the path. They all looked down.

“Fucking _dragons.”_ Carver cursed, for his foot was firmly resting in a pile of yellow dragon poop. Hawke winced.

“I knew I forgot to mention something.” He said. “Don’t walk in the center – walk closer to the edges.”

Fenris sighed beside him, and Bethany wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Wow.” Carver muttered, pulling his foot free with a disgust slurping sound. “Thanks.”

“Sorry.” Hawke said. “We can wash it off when we get out… uh, honestly it’s not worth it trying to get it off now.”

“I hate your job.” Fenris muttered at his side.

“Sorry.” Hawke said again.

“He’s the one who wanted to tag along.” Fenris muttered from behind them, and Carver resisted the urge to turn and scowl at him.

“Let’s just get this over with.” He muttered instead, and they kept walking. Fenris kept hovering behind him, and Carver was getting increasingly annoyed, because he _knew_ his brother had told the elf to watch him, but he didn’t say anything because honestly, he didn’t feel like arguing at the moment.

He mostly just wanted to get out of these goddamn tunnels.

He wasn’t sure how long they were walking, or how long they’d been down there, or how long he just listened to the sound of the trampling of their footsteps. All he knew is that one minute, Garrett and Bethany were right in front of him, and the next an arm was around his waist yanking him backwards as the ceiling fell from above him.

“Oof!” He landed with a thud on something rather sharp and pointy, and all the light disappeared from the area. There was a moment of panicked scrambling, and then he was back on his feet, coughing as dust filled his lungs.

“Bethy?” he called. “Garrett? _Garrett?”_

“Don’t waste your breath.” A voice muttered to his right, and Carver jumped. Then a eerie blue glow lit the room, and suddenly he could see Fenris.

And the light was coming _from_ him.

“Maker, what the fuck?” Carver cursed. Fenris just gave him a withering glance, still sitting on the ground, one knee bent and the other straight. He shook his head, and then turned back to the wall. “Bethany?” He called again. The elf rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation.

“Carver?” The faint voice came through, and suddenly relief flooded through him. He hadn’t realized he’d been so worried in the first place, honestly.

“Beth! Is Garrett with you?” he called.

“Yeah, he’s… wait a sec.” Her voice was muffled, as if they were talking through a wall of blankets, or a heavy wooden door. He paused, listening, and then, “Carver? Carver, are you alright?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Garrett, I’m _fine._ What happened?”

“Who knows, I’m just gla…Fen? Fenris is with you, right?” Garrett’s voice spiked again, and Carver groaned. Still on the ground, the elf rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes he’s okay too, alright?” Carver said. “What do we do?”

“Just don’t move, I’ll try to clear this out.” Garrett sighed. Carver groaned.

“Fine.” He muttered, and turned back around. Fenris watched him with a raised eyebrow, still glowing eerily. The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, and Carver cursed his luck, because the _last_ the thing he needed was to be stuck with his brother’s sarcastic broody elf boyfriend.

“You really think your brother would let something happen to your sister?” Fenris asked eventually, almost judgmentally. “He refused to bring any of us down here before having a plan should something like this happen _.”_ He sighed. “One of the few times he was actually prepared. And in all honestly it was _Aveline_ who made all the plans.” He frowned, and yeah, okay, Carver had to agree that it wasn’t like Garrett to plan ahead. “In the mean time, you might want to stop breathing so deeply, as you will eventually suffocate.” The elf added. Carver just blinked at him, sitting there, completely unconcerned. He frowned, and then grew angrier, and then, “Do you even care about him?” flew from his lips before he could stop it.

Fenris’s expression didn’t change, nor did his position, but something definitely shifted – the air around him altered, and although the color stayed the same, the glow seemed colder, somehow.

“What are you droning about now?” Fenris growled, looking away. Carver crossed his arms.

“Well, _since_ we’re here, and _since_ we’re not doing anything _else,_ we might as well have this conversation.” He said, and then stood directly in front of he elf, staring down at him.

“Carver, wait a minute-“ Garrett’s voice squeaked through the wall, and oops, Carver had forgotten he could hear. But this conversation needed to happen, sooner rather than later, because _maker_ he was tired of the two of them. He might be the younger brother, but he _was_ still the brother, and if no one else was going to say it, he was.

“Do. _Not_. Hurt. My brother.” He said slowly, accentuating each word.

“C-Carver!” Hawke protested weakly. They both ignored him. Fenris raised an eyebrow.

“That was almost a threat.” He said. “Perhaps you’re not as spineless as I assumed.” Carver ground his teeth together.

“I’m serious.” He said. “Garrett might be impossible and arrogant and stubborn and _stupid_ ,” (an indignant, “Hey!” came from the other side), “but he _is_ my brother, and somehow I still manage to care about what happens to him.”

“Really?” Fenris raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you could show that little more, then, so he would stop wondering.” Carver frowned.

“What?” He asked, but the elf just shrugged and didn’t reply.

“What’d he say? Carver?” Garrett called. Obviously Fenris’s low notes didn’t pass through the dirt as well, in addition to the fact that he was on the ground and still practically growling at the younger Hawke. Carver didn’t answer his brother, and instead shook his head. “Anyways. Everyone knows where this is going, and I’m telling you now – don’t hurt him.”

“And what if I do?” Fenris asked, voice quiet but still gruff. Carver didn’t know how to respond to that. ‘Then I’ll be mad’ didn’t really offer a threat, because, honestly, he was already always mad. He couldn’t _fight_ the elf, because even he knew when he was outmatched.

So what _could_ he do?

“Tell him if he hurts Garrett I’ll kick him in his elf-y balls!” Bethany called through the wall cheerfully.

“No!” Garrett protested. “Wait, what…! _Maker_ what is wrong with you two?” There was the sound of a heavy sigh. Fenris and Carver just kept staring at each other, and yes, Carver was _terrified_ because the elf was fucking _glowing_ and _glowering_ and _glaring_ but also, he wasn’t going to back down.

He was _Carver Hawke_ , dammit, and he looked out for his family.

He felt a thrill of triumph Fenris broke first, looking away at the wall with a grunt.

“If you cannot answer that, then I have a different question.” He muttered. Carver nodded warily. “Why are you so sure that it will be I who hurts him? He is the mage, is he not?”

Carver’s anger snapped, and for a moment he was so furious he was speechless. Then he said, “How can you even _say_ that?”

“Carver, just let it-“

“Shut up, Garrett.” He snapped at the wall, and then turned back to the elf. “He’s not one of your stupid _Magisters_ , okay? Yeah, I get it, magic fucked up your life. It’s done a decent job of intruding on mine, too. But you _don’t_ get to say that about him. He’s an ass sometimes. But he’s not _evil_ and he would _never_ do something like that to _anyone, ever._ If you don’t even know that about him yet then you should just leave.”

“Carver!” Garrett sounded somewhere between angry and panicked.

“Just get us out of here.” Carver replied hotly. Fenris was still staring at him, expression unreadable.

“Almost done.” Bethany’s voice replied. He hadn’t realized it before, but they _were_ getting louder, which probably meant closer, or at least that the wall was thinner. For a few minutes there was just… silence, and then Fenris said, “I apologize if my question was… out of line.” He paused. _No kidding._ Carver thought to himself. “But you cannot compare my life to yours.”

“And why is that?” Carver demanded.

“We are very different people.” Fenris replied darkly.

“You’re right.” Carver agreed. “You just sit there and brood about your problems. I at least make an _effort_ to fix mine.”

“And what would you have me do?” Fenris asked. Carver frowned, and then said, “Your old master or whatever, he wants those markings back, skin and all, right?” he asked, pointing at the glowing. “So why not cover them? You know, try _not_ to attract attention?”

“To what end?” Fenris shrugged. “They would still come, and I am not going to hide forever.”

“I don’t know, so you could, you know, have a _life_ or something.” Carver shrugged, but Fenris just raised an eyebrow.

“And what life do _you_ have, then? There are not hunters after _you.”_ He asked, and ouch. The elf was more like a porcupine – all sharp and grumpy – than he was a wolf.

“I have a life!” Carver protested angrily.

“Oh yes? One that you complain about.” Fenris said, and okay yes, but Carver had _reasons_ for complaining, and also he _did_ something about it. “We are not always free to do as we wish, as you should well know.” The elf said, and… Carver didn’t know what else to do other than frown.

“I _do_ have a life.” He muttered instead, and yeah, that was lame.

“Then I stand corrected.” The elf snorted. There was another long, uncomfortably tense pause. Then Garrett’s voice said, “Alright, I think it’s almost there.” And yeah, his voice was a lot closer. Fenris sighed, and then jumped to his feet, grabbing his sword from his back and walking to the wall.

And then suddenly a hole appeared, and fresh air that Carver hadn’t known he’d been craving flooded into the small cavern. It was about chest level, and when he looked through it, Bethany’s face was staring back.

“Carver!” she said cheerily. “Wait just a few more minutes, okay?”

He sighed, and nodded. Fenris nodded at the hole.

“You want to help them, start digging.” He said. Carver frowned at it, then shrugged. He found that the dirt fell away fairly easily, and any bigger rocks he and Fenris moved together (which is odd and awkward for both parties involved) and soon there was a hole big enough for the two of them to fit through.

“I think I can make that.” He said, and shimmied his way to the other side. As soon as he stood up, Garrett was crushing him in a hug, arms so tight it made him cough.

Or it could have also been the dirt in his lungs, but who was to say?

“Ugh, Gar… let me go!” he squirmed.

Garrett held on for a moment longer, and then pulled back to help Fenris to his feet. But, as soon as he was free of Garrett’s embrace, he was locked into Bethany’s.

“Bethy!” he whined, and she giggled. When she pulled back, they were both covered in dust and soot. He sighed at himself. “This is gross.”

“Are you both alright?” Garrett was mother hen-ing again, checking both Carver and Fenris, and then Bethany too just because he could, over for injuries multiple times. All three of them were shoving him away by the end of it, and soon they were walking again, because “the sooner we check out the other cave in the sooner we can get out of here and clean ourselves off”, as Carver said.

It didn’t take long, as soon they rounded on a dead end. Garrett ran forwards, feeling at the walls, frowning slightly.

“Wh-“ Carver started, but Fenris nudged him hard to cut him off. He shook his head and pointed at the walls. They weren’t stable… any extra vibrations might send them tumbling down again.

But how were they even supposed to know of there were people inside if they couldn’t talk to them?

Then he noticed Garrett’s fingers on the hand without the fire were glowing slightly, a faint green color – ah, that’s right, Anders had been teaching him healing magic. With that he should be able to feel anything living nearby. For a moment it was dead silent, the four of them hardly daring to breathe. Then Garrett nodded firmly and gestured at the wall.

Carver watched as Fenris, in an obviously well-practiced sort of trance, walked forwards and began scrapping at the wall. Meanwhile, the fire in Garrett’s hands dimmed, and the green glow faded. He stood and spread his arms wide, and then pushed them upwards and out. Suddenly the air was filled with a sort of tense pressure, and everything grew a _lot_ warmer.

Fenris motioned him forwards. He started digging.

He wasn’t sure how long they were digging for, exactly, but one minute there was dirt under his fingers and the next he was reaching through a small hole, no more resistance on the other side. He was leaning forwards over the small ledge he and Fenris had managed to dig out – Bethany had joined Garrett in supporting the walls and ceiling, and in return he was able to make the light brighter for them to see.

As soon as his hands poked through, he could hear voices, faint and murmuring, and then one clear one, asking, “Hello? There’s about twelve of us here, and there are a few injured.”

“We’re here to help.” Fenris replied quietly.

“Thank the Maker.” The man whispered in relief. After that it was quicker to make a path, and the people on the other side began wearing away at the wall like Carver had earlier. Every now and then large chunks would just randomly fall off, or rocks would break loose and thud to the ground. Each time Carver winced, expecting the sky to rein down on them again, but it never did, and soon he was helping people out, grabbing arms and hands to help pull them through. He accepted their thanks with a little nod, but said nothing. Finally there were only two left – one, the only woman there, her hair tied back and her arm pretty badly broken, and the other a younger boy, in his twenties, perhaps, unconscious with a rather concerning lump on his head. Together, Fenris and Carver were able to get both of them out.

“I’m Aranai.” The woman said. “This is Renial, my son.” Silent tears were running down her face, but she refused to wince and refused to sob. “H-he hit his head. He’s alive, but if he doesn’t find help-“

“We’ll take him to someone who can help him.” Garrett promised her quietly. “For now, we need to get out of here before more of this caves in, okay?” She nodded, and Garrett gestured him over.

“Take care of her.”

Carver blinked, but Garrett was already gone. That didn’t change the fact that Garrett had told him something other than, “Don’t touch the walls” or “Watch out for the dragon poop”. He’d been trusted with a task again. Like old times.

He turned to the woman.

“Come on.” He said, sighing. “Let’s get out of here.” She nodded, and they began walking – Garrett had gently slipped Renial onto his back, and Fenris walked behind him, making sure the boy didn’t fall. Bethany took over light duties, although the faint blue glowing of her hands wasn’t near as bright as the fire had been.

Carver was in the front, and she was beside him. And it was… it felt… satisfying. But also odd, not seeing Garrett’s back in front of him. It was nice. And what’s more, Aranai was hovering behind him – counting on him. Relying on him.

For once, he couldn’t really find something to be mad about.

Well, he probably could, if he tried. But he didn’t want to. Instead he just focused on the path ahead, on Bethany’s light, on the other’s footsteps—

He saw the rocks before the others did, breaking off from somewhere above them and falling straight towards Aranai. He didn’t think, he just reacted. Throwing his sword up and bracing it with his other hand, he deflected it moments before it would have landed on the woman’s head with a loud clang. Garrett’s delayed shout of warning and her frightened squeal came moments after, and he just stood there for what seemed like forever, frozen.

“Thank you, thank you, Maker bless you-“ the woman was saying, bowing her head to him over and over. Fenris… was looking at him with what could have been his usual glare, but it was at least slightly more approving. Bethany was grinning at him brightly.

And Garrett… Garrett was looking at him with surprise, and… pride?

Carver blushed and looked away, scowling, but he couldn’t deny the pleased feeling in his stomach, and he hated it. Because he wasn’t _looking_ for his brother’s approval… he just wanted people to know he wasn’t useless.

Which, in a way, is sort of what he’d just done.

He shook his head.

“Come on.” He said without turning around. “Let’s keep going.”


	6. In Which Carver is Teased and Really Hates Mages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY ANDERSSS!!!!!! I know he wasn't in the updates much time time around, but there was tons of Carver being fantastic so i hope it makes up for it. I promise he'll be in the story a lot more in future updates! 
> 
> hope you enjoy~

They made it out without mishap after that. After giving their thanks, and a few of them some form of payment, the rest of the miners went on their way home. Aranai insisted on accompanying them to Anders’s clinic, however, and none of them were going to disagree. So, with Renial still on Garret’s back, the five of them made their way to low town.

And then Carver realized that they were, in fact, going to Anders clinic. He’d _known_ , but he hadn’t actually put the pieces together until that moment. He’d never been to Anders’s clinic before… It should be interesting, at least.

When they pushed through the doors, the mage was already there, arms open to accept the injured boy and leading him to a back table. Fenris got his and Bethany’s attention and indicated that they should wait, and so wait they did.

“What’s going on in there?” Carver asked.

“What do you think?” Fenris replied dryly. “ _Magic_ , of course.”

“But magic that helps people.” Bethany said thoughtfully.

“Magic is still magic.” Was all Fenris replied. Carver was doing his best to ignore the elf completely, their fight in the Mines still fresh in his mind.

The rest of the wait was spent in silence, and then the doors opened, and Garrett and Anders walked out together, the latter wiping bloodied hands off on his trousers.

“Ah, Fenris.” He said, spotting the elf. “Always a pleasure.”

“I’m not here by choice, Mage.”

“Never are, are you?”

The two of them glared at each other for a moment, while Hawke just sighed in the background. Carver frowned. Then Anders turned to look at him, and his eyes widened.

“Carver! Bethany? It’s been a while since I’ve seen either of you.” He said, smile splitting his face as he walked over. _When did Bethany meet Anders again?_

“Are they going to be alright?” His twin asked hopefully, and the mage nodded.

“Yes, thanks to you two.” He said, and then gave Carver a _look_ , one that said _something_ but he wasn’t sure what. “You should come around more often, ey, Hawke?” he looked over his shoulder at Garrett, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else and was giving Fenris his worried face.

Maybe no one else saw it, but Carver did – the slight little fall in Anders’s expression when he was completely ignored by the other mage.

And Carver _kind of_ wanted to hit his brother in the face.

“Anyways.” Anders shrugged it off and turned back to them, fixing Carver with that _look_ again. “You’re coming with this time wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with what we talked about, would it?” he asked, and _oh_ , that’s what the look was for. Carver flushed.

“N-no!” He said, frowning. “I just was tired of being ignored, that’s all.”

“Right, right.” Anders nodded. “That’s what I thought.” Carver’s blush deepened.

He was _so_ being teased, and yeah, he _really_ didn’t like this mage. Beside him, Bethany giggled, and Anders’s grin widened. Then he paused, sniffing.

“Maker, you lot smell terrible.” He said.

“Yeah, well, _you_ try stepping in dragon shit.” Carver muttered. There was a pause.

And then Anders let out a loud laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh, Carver, you have _no idea_ …” He said. “Gar, remember the _first_ time we went, and you ran into th-“

“Ha, haha, yeah.” Garrett cut him off, blushing in embarrassment. “Let’s not tell that story.”

“Awh, but it’s one of my _favorites._ ” Anders complained, and Hawke smirked a little, shaking his head.

“No.” he reiterated. “Besides, as you said, we all smell, and I for one am tired of having dirt _everywhere._ I’ll stop by later to check on them, okay?” he asked.

“Sure.” Anders nodded. “I’ll be here.” They all nodded, and turned away. He’d only gone a few feet, however, when he heard Anders say, “Hey, Hawke twins, don’t forget the way here! You’re welcome to stop by, yeah?”

He and Bethany turned back for a moment. She nodded enthusiastically and promised to stop by again soon. Carver just stared at the mage silently for a moment, because, _Maker forbid_ , why did he actually want to consider coming down here and visiting one of Garrett’s friends?

“Come on, Carv, what about you?” Anders wiggled his eyebrows. “Keep a healer company for a bit later on?”

Carver blushed, and dammit he hated how easy it was to blush, hated how pale he was and how well it showed up. He looked away, and hesitated.

And then he nodded once, turned on his heel, and walked off after his family, face burning.


	7. In Which Carver Goes on an Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Merrill! Carver needs hugs! Only one chapter this week, hope you enjoy~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important note #1: bookishTomato and I have joined our Origins universes together, so the two Warden Commanders Merrill mentions are both our Wardens working together to get the Grey Wardens running again
> 
> Important note #2: My warden romanced Alistair, and as such i am taking my literary liberties and refusing to split them up ^~^ so, as a compromise, Alistair is the Ambassador of Fereldan while Anora is the queen.

Carver was bored.

In fact, he was more than bored. He was about to go _insane_. Pacing around, grunting, cleaning his sword over and over again. Making a sandwich. Pacing some more…

“Carv.” Bethany said, and he paused. “If you walk across the room one more time, I’m going to set your pants on fire.”

“I thought Garrett was the fire mage.” He muttered, crossing his arms. She laughed, sitting on the couch with a book in her lap.

“Perhaps he’s taught me a thing or two.” She said slyly. He rolled his eyes. “Anyways, why are you so antsy?”

“I don’t know!” he said. “Maybe because, once again, I’m home and _bored_.”

“Oh, stop.” Bethany rolled her eyes. “You know Garrett wasn’t doing anything interesting. Aveline asked for a _private meeting_ , it’s not like he went to go fight more dragons.”

“And how would _you_ know?” Carver muttered.

“Garrett is many things. A good liar is not one of them.” Bethany grinned, and okay yeah, he had to agree with that one. “But seriously, you need to find something to do. You’re driving me insane.”

“I’m already going insane.” He muttered. She rolled her eyes. “And what would you have me do, then, since you’re so smart?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged . “Read a book.”

He glared.

“Take Miles for a walk?”

He glared harder.

“Maker, Carver, I don’t know.” She laughed. “You need friends, seriously. Oh!” She blinked. “I know! Go visit Anders!”

“Why.” He asked flatly. She rolled her eyes again in exasperation.

“Because he asked you to and you’re not doing anything else?” she offered. He just stared at her. She sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve only been there _once_ , Bethy, how am I supposed to find it?” he demanded, and then realized… He was actually considering going.

That’s how bored he was. Stooping to the level of visiting Hawke’s friends. _Maker help me._

“It was two days ago, surely you haven’t forgotten the way already!” his twin protested. Carver flushed.

“Whatever, I can find it.” He muttered.

“Wait, you’re actually going?” Bethany asked in surprise. He shrugged.

“Why not, it’s not like I’m _needed_ anywhere else.” He huffed, and with that walked out the door.

 

Carver was very, very lost.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been wandering around in Darktown, but he knew it’d been over two hours, and nothing that looked even remotely like the clinic was in sight.

Neither, of course, was the path that he’d taken to get where he was. All he wanted to do was get back to Gamlen’s home now, but he didn’t seem able to do that either.

“Cursed _Bethany,_ cursed _Anders_ , stupid _fucking_ mages…” he muttered as he walked, hands shoved deep in his pockets and sword clanking at his side. “Go see Anders, she said. It’ll be fun, she said. Good for you both, she said!” He complained to no one in particular. “You know, if I could _just_ -“

“Carver?”

He froze, hearing a familiar voice. Then he turned, glaring, to look at Aveline, who looked rather confused.

“What?” he snapped.

“Are… you lost?” She asked carefully.

“No.” he lied. She kept frowning.

“What are you doing in Darktown?”

“Nothing.” He lied again.

“Right… Does Hawke know you’re here?”

“Why?” He asked. “Is it a law that he’s got to know of my whereabouts at all times?”

“No, but he was looking for you earlier.” Aveline said. “Bethany said you went for a walk but hadn’t come back yet. He’s probably worried.”

“Yeah, well, I should be able to… _take a walk_ … without having to tell him.” He huffed. “If he’s allowed to just leave and go off by himself then so am I!” Aveline frowned.

“Carver, your brother works hard to-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know, alright?” he cut her off, and yeah, he knew he was being an ass, but honestly _why_ did one of Garrett’s friends have to find him _right now?_ _Especially_ Aveline, who was the most liable to actually _tell_ him about it. “I’m going home anyways.”

“Really?” Aveline asked. “What a coincidence, I’m heading to your home too. Garrett and I had a meeting earlier, but there was something we forgot to talk about, and-“

“I know.” He snapped. Then he started walking. “Well? Are you coming?”

“I’m… fairly certain your house is _this_ way.” She said, pointing in nearly he opposite direction he’d been going. “Or at least, this is the quickest route. It passes by Ander’s clinic, too, I think.” And wow, subtle, Aveline, kudos to you.

He didn’t blush. Really. He didn’t. He’d been outside all day. That’s why his face was red. Okay?

Okay.

They started walking.

“See?” Aveline said a few minutes later, pointing to something on the right. “It’s just up those stairs, to the right. I used to forget where it was, but if you look for that statue over that way,” she pointed again, “then it’s kind of hard to miss, or so I’ve learned.” And wow, still with the subtlety, Aveline, way to go.

“Ah.” He grunted in response.

They kept walking.

Eventually Carver began to recognize the roads, and he started to repeat the path over and over again in his head. Never again would he be lost, at least not going this way. _Never again._

When they made it to the house, he was still in a foul mood, and – he should have, honestly – but he didn’t even bother to thank Aveline before he stormed up the steps, through the living room, and into his bedroom, closing the door probably harder than he should have.

He waited a few moments.

Then there was knocking on his door.

“Carver?” A voice came, and he blinked. He hadn’t realized his mother was home. “Is everything alright, sweetie?” he sighed.

“Yes, mother, everything is _fine._ ” He replied through the wood.

“Carver, where were you?” Now it was Garrett speaking.

“Shove off, would you?” Carver groaned. “I’m tired. Can we just talk about this tomorrow?”

“Hawke, there’s actually something I’d like to talk to you about…”

“Hmm?”

Footsteps walked away. _Damn._ He thought. _Saved by Aveline again._

“Carver?” His mother asked again. He sighed.

“Yes?”

“Are you going to bed?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Then sleep well, dear.”

“I will.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I just had a long day.”

“Alright. Good night, sweetie.”

“Night.”

She walked away, and he sighed once again. Then he slipped into his pajamas and tumbled into bed. It was probably only seven o’clock, but he was tired, and he didn’t have anything _else_ to do.

Surprisingly, sleep came easily that night.

And in the morning, he woke up early.

Early, and determined.

He looked over to where Bethany was sleeping – he hated having to share a room with his twin still, but there were only so many beds in Gamlen’s house, and… to be honest, him and Garrett being in the same room even when it was the middle of the day tended to be rocky, much less at night when Carver was even more irritable and Garrett was even more dumb.

He carefully snuck his way out.

“Carver!” Leandra was in the kitchen. Damn.

“Oh, good morning…”

“You’re up very early.” She said in surprise. He shrugged.

“I have plans for today.” He said evasively. She blinked, and then slipped into a grin.

“Do these plans involve a special someone?” She asked, and, in a moment of tiredness and misunderstanding, he just grunted a laugh and said, “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

There was a pause. Then he said, “Uhm. I didn’t mean it like… mother!” He cried in exasperation, finally catching on. It was too late, however – she was already grinning and had that _Leandra_ face that meant she was onto something and she was going to chase it until she got what she wanted.

“Do I know this person?” She asked. “Is it Merrill?

“No!” He snapped, crossing his arms, turning the brightest shade of tomato red Leandra had ever seen. She giggled and rolled her eyes, waving her hand uncaringly in an attempt to placate her son.

“Sure, of _course_ not Carver.” She said sweetly.

“It’s for _work._ ” Carver insisted, although that wasn’t strictly true.

And honestly, knowing where the clinic was located could come in handy some day, if he ever had to save someone and needed a healer, right? Which was _work._ It wasn’t strictly a lie…

“I’m sure it is.” Leandra said. “Just be safe on the streets!”

Carver rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes, mother, I _know._ ” He muttered, stalking over to the door. Her amused chuckled followed behind him, and as the door closed a light, “Have fun, dear!” reached his ears.

He flushed and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Then he started walking.

 

He didn’t get near as lost this time, and only had to walk around Darktown twice before spotting the statue Aveline had pointed out to him the day before. Grinning in satisfaction, he marched towards it, only to realize it was at the base of a very tall staircase.

 _Maker._ He cursed. _Perhaps that’s why the Templars don’t arrest him, he’s too damn hard to get to._

He paused, and looked back the way he came.

Then he growled and started to climb.

He hadn’t remembered having to climb this many stairs when he’d come with Garrett. Then again, it was more than likely Garrett knew all the secret entrances to this place instead of just marching nonchalantly up to the front door with half-dead people slung over his shoulders.

Once he reached the top, however, he was met with a large stone cliff, with two smaller wooden doors, stained a dark brown, and an unrealistically high up lantern that no _normal_ person would be able to reach.

Of course, when one had _magic_ …

He scowled. Then he walked forwards and knocked on the wood before he had a chance to let himself think about it.

There was silence in reply.

“Damn him.” he cursed.

“The healer isn’t here.” A small voice said, and he turned, frowning, but he saw no one. “The lantern is off. That means he’s not here.” Finally he looked down, only to see a little girl with mud covering her face, dirt caked in hair that was just as dark as her shining brown irises. She couldn’t have been more than four years old, barely reaching up to his waist. Carver’s features softened, and he bent down to be eye level with her.

“Do you mean the man who works here?” he asked, and she nodded, backing away shyly.

“He’s nice.” She said. “And he gives me bread sometimes. He healed my little brother’s cough when he was a baby, and my momma told me that I could always go to him if I needed to.” She looked up at the stupidly high lantern, a small smile on her face. “See? The light is off… that means he’s not here. But when he comes home, it’ll be glowing. You can see it from waaaaaaaaay over there, if you know what to look for.” She said, turning and pointing off into the distance with an excited little hop. Carver pretended to peer off in the direction her finger was aimed, narrowing his eyes, and then shrugged.

“I don’t know, that’s pretty far.” He said uncertainly, and she nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s true!” she said. “I’ll show you, someday! Just you wait!” She said, and then paused, listening with wide eyes. Carver frowned, trying to hear what she apparently was, but all that came to him was the same loud moaning and groaning of the dying city around him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“My momma’s calling me.” She said. “I gotta go. But maybe I’ll see you again sometime!” She said, and just like that, started to skip away. When she reached the top of the staircase she paused, and then turned back and gave a little wave, smiling hesitantly. He stood and waved back, and her smile grew. Then the turned and bounded away, disappearing down the mountain.

He stood there watching her for a moment, and then sighed. He looked up at the lantern, scowl suddenly returning. _Of course he wouldn’t be here._ He grumbled. _I actually make the effort to come and he’s not even home._

He scoffed angrily, and then, shoving his hands back in his pockets, he turned and started down the same way the girl had just gone, down the stairs and out of Darktown, muttering to himself the entire time about stupid Anders and his stupid clinic, with the stupid lantern and _fucking sun is too bright_ and his _feet hurt_ and the _damn ungrateful mage not even being there even though he actually walked all the way down there because he asked him too_ and it was just _rude_ and god Carver just hated _everything._

When he’d left, it’d been early in the morning, the sun low in the sky with the pinks and purples of morning tinting the horizon. Now it was full overhead, past lunchtime, and Carver was hungry and hot and tired and overall rather unsatisfied with everything. He glared at the road as he walked, eventually sliding into an annoyed silence, until suddenly he found himself standing outside the Hanged Man.

He glared at it, too.

He knew his brother’s friends met there to talk, and that the dwarf – Varric, that was his name – lived above it, and that Isabela practically did to, seeing as she was “always” there (unless of course she was out saving the world with Garrett, or sleeping with some stranger, or stealing some priceless artifact from a house in hightown, or… okay, so maybe she wasn’t there as often as she claimed, but she was there often enough that Carver always thought of her just living there). Either way, none of them were people he particularly wanted to run into, or worse to walk in on them having one of their battle meetings because Maker knew Garrett would…

 _You know what?_ Carver set his jaw. _Screw Garrett._

He walked inside.

Looking around, he didn’t immediately spot anyone of interest (not even Isabela) and despite his determination not to care what Garrett or his friends thought, he still felt a small trill of relief go through him.

“Hey, honey, what can I do ya for?”

He turned to see a barmaid cleaning off one of the tables, low-cut dress making her breasts pop. Carver flushed and looked away, and he heard her chuckle from behind him.

“Nothing, for now.” He muttered.

“Sure, sugar, whatever you say.” She laughed, and walked away. He couldn’t help but turn and watch as she went, hips swaying silkily.

 _Maker, I hate this place._ He thought, and then promptly dropped into the nearest chair. His feet were aching from all the walking. Not, mind you, that he had low stamina or anything, but Ander’s house was a good ways away from Gamlen’s, and he’d walked all the way there and back without much of a break in between because _somebody_ wasn’t home. He glowered at the walls, the dim lighting making his head hurt, and if he feet weren’t throbbing he’d have simply left.

“Carver, is that you?”

He paused, teeth clenching.

_Of course._

“This is the last place I expected to run into you, Merrill.” He sighed, turning. She blinked in surprise.

“Oh, me?” She said. “I was just looking for Isabela – you know how she says she’s always here, and everything – but I’ve found she’s not actually present at the moment.” She sighed, sitting across from him, and he frowned, considered protesting, and then just sighed in acceptance.

“You too?” he muttered. “Seems like no one is where they say they’ll be today.”

“What?” She blinked in surprise, but he just shrugged and didn’t explain, sinking lower in his chair. “Oh, I see, you don’t want to talk about it.” She said. “I’m beginning to get better at that, you know, or at least that’s what Isabela tells me. Reading people, I mean. It’s so strange, but it can actually be quite fun!” She smiled brightly. “Like a secret language we all share!”

He just grunted gruffly, but only because he was hiding an amused chuckle. Merrill wasn’t bad, and out of all of Garrett’s friends Carver found her easiest to be around. Well, there was Anders, but…

 _Fucking Anders._ Carver scowled deeper, hating himself for the thought. Merrill’s head tilted in confusion.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have explained the language? Well, I didn’t explain exactly, but… oh! _Should_ I have explained?” She now looked thoroughly conflicted, and Carver sighed, shaking his head.

“No, you’re fine, Merrill. It was someone…uh, some _thing_ else.” He coughed, catching himself. She raised an eyebrow and he silently cursed Isabela for teaching Merrill to actually be able to read people. One of the reasons he’d liked her more than the others was that she _didn’t_ poke and pry into his personal life.

Now she was getting to be one of the people that read him best, besides Bethany.

 _And Anders._ A small voice whispered, but he mentally flipped it off and then shoved it away. He didn’t want to think about the betraying, backstabbing, no-good lying mage just then.

“Look, pumpkins, I can’t let you stay here if you aren’t gonna order anything.” A voice said, and he turned to glare at the busty barmaid again. She had bright pink lip-gloss and dark eye shadow on, and was raising a thinly penciled eyebrow at him appraisingly.

“That’s ridiculous, people sit in here all the time.” He protested, but she just sighed, shrugging.

“Sorry, sugar, that’s the _rules…_ ” she said, winking at him, and he flushed, looking away.

“Fine, _fine_ , whatever… Merrill, what do you want? I’ll pay.” He glared at the opposite wall, and Merrill’s eyes widened.

“Oh, that’s alright, I can get it.” She said, and then turned to the woman. “I’ll have a grape juice, please!”

Carver turned and stared, as did the woman.

“Excuse me, deary, what was that?” She asked, and Merrill just smiled at her innocently.

“Oh, I’m not a big fan of all that alcohol and stuff, not this early in the afternoon, anyway. I do enjoy some good wine in the evenings, when it’s dark out, but that’s normally if I’m home, or if I’m with Bela. I live a good walk away, see, and I don’t want to sleep here, but if I… oh dear, I’m rambling, aren’t I?” She paused, blinking in surprise, and then laughed. “Sorry about that, I tend to go on about unimportant stuff or so I’m told. Anyways, I meant what I said. Just grape juice.”

“R…right, one grape juice, coming up.” The woman said, turning to look at Carver again. This time her gaze was a bit less predatory and a bit more incredulous, as if she were rethinking her interest in him because of the company he kept. “And you?”

For some reason, that ticked him off, and he glared at her.

“Like she said… just grape juice.” He replied stonily, and in return her once-honey gaze turned sour.

 _”Two_ grape juices, coming right up.” She said with a false sweetness, and then turned on her heel and marched back to the counter. Merrill stared at him.

“I didn’t know you liked grape juice!” She said brightly. “I’d have thought you would get one of those fancy drinks Varric likes. You know, the big manly ones he says are the reason he’d got so much chest hair.”

Carver wasn’t sure just what to say to that. It was certainly the first time one of Garrett’s friends had referred to anything to do with him as ‘big’ and ‘manly’ but at the same time…

“You know beer doesn’t actually give you chest hair, right?” He muttered in response, and she stared at him.

“Really?” She asked, and he sighed. “Varric was quite insistent, and Bela… oh, they were playing a joke on me again, weren’t they!” She exclaimed, breaking into a smile. “Those two! Sometimes it’s so hard for me to tell when they’re joking, see, so I get confused.” He debated what to say, but just settled for a sigh and a gentle, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Because Merrill was… well, Merrill. Like Bethany, but more innocent. Well, more innocent in some ways, at least. Bethany would never be able to use blood magic without thinking twice, would never use it _period_ , but…

Honestly, the idea that Merrill was a blood mage never really sank in for him. It was so hard to connect the young, pretty elf before him with the gruesome creatures he and Garrett had fought together in their first few months in Kirkwall. He knew people didn’t turn into abominations until they’d been possessed, but he’d never met anyone (besides Merrill) who might have turned into an abomination. Everyone he knew that used magic used _safe_ magic, (if there was such a thing, which at times he doubted), or were already abominations.

He just hoped it would never happen to her. He knew he shouldn’t grow attached to her, because blood magic was wrong, but for _some reason_ Carver just seemed drawn like a magnet to bad ideas and dangerous situations. And despite it all, he did like Merrill.

As he had that thought, his mother’s words came into his mind, and suddenly he flushed, dropping his head to the table with a groan.

“Oh dear!” Merrill said worriedly. “What’s wrong? Did I do something? Or was it the someone… sorry, some _thing_ else from before?”

“No, neither.” He muttered, sitting back up. “It’s my mother, this time.”

“Oh, I see.” Merrill nodded in understanding. “Parents can be like that, or so I’ve been told.” He frowned.

“Don’t you have them?” He asked, a moment before realizing that was probably a rude thing to say, and went to correct his mistake, but she just laughed, shaking her head.

“Oh, no, don’t be silly.” She said. “They died when I was veeeery little. I grew up with the Keeper… she’s more of a mother to me than anyone.”

“Did… you have any siblings?” He asked, frowning, and she nodded.

“Oh, of course! Everyone in my village was like a brother or sister to me. We’re all one large family, it’s really quite… oh.” She paused. “That’s probably not quite what you meant, is it?”

“Not exactly.” He frowned.

“I suppose you mean like you and Hawke, right? Well, Garrett, I mean. Obviously you’re both Hawkes.” She giggled. He raised an eyebrow but nodded all he same.

“The answer is still yes, although not quite in the same way.” She said. “The Keeper raised me, and three other children… Min - maybe you’ve heard of him – he’s one of the co-leaders of the wardens nowadays, with Tish, but a lot of the time she’s off being the Ambasador with Alistair, so… oh, dear, I’ve deviated from the topic again.” She paused sheepishly.

“It’s alright.” He said, and then, hurriedly, “Wait, you mean _Minehn_?” his eyes were wide. “And Atisha’len? The ones who are fighting the blight in Fereldan?” She nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, yes. I get letters from Min sometimes, when he’s not busy.” She said with a shrug. “Although recently that’s been more and more often. That’s he’s busy, I mean. There’s apparently a lot going on that he can’t tell me, which I understand.” She said. “I just hope he stays safe. Losing Tamlen was hard enough.” She got a far away look in her eyes, and Carver, in an attempt to focus himself back on her and not of the legendary figures of Fereldan she’d spoken of, shook his head and asked, “What?”

“He was one of the other boys I was raised with.” She said. “He and Min were so close, it just _killed_ Min inside when Tamlen died.” She sighed. “The blight got him, Falon'din guide him.” There was a pause, and then Carver’s curiosity got the better of him and he asked, “and who was the third? You’ve mentioned two of your… siblings, but you said there were three?”

“Oh!” Merrill brightened, and he heaved an internal sigh of relief. That look of sadness didn’t belong on Merrill’s face. “That’s Fenarel. He’s still with the clan, actually.” She frowned. “He didn’t exactly approve of my choice either, but he did respect it. I have to say, I miss being close with him sometimes.” She sighed, and then shrugged. “But it’s alright, I’ve got a new family here, a new home! Even if it’s taking some getting used to… I don’t regret it. I like helping out here, and I’ve met so many wonderful people, like you!” She said brightly. “And your sister, and Aveline, and Varric, and Bela, and Anders, and even Fenris although I get the feeling he’s not very fond of me.”

“He’s not very fond of anyone.” Carver muttered.

“He gets along with Bela and Varric alright.” She said. “And Bethany has mentioned he’s not completely horrible to her, too!” She brightened. Carver paused, waiting, but Merrill didn’t continue. He frowned.

“What about Garrett?” He asked. She tilted her head.

“I’m not certain, I havn’t observed them together much.” She said. He scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes.

“They’re practically already dating!” He said. “Isabela taught you to read expressions but she didn’t tell you about _them?_ As invested as she and the dwarf are in the two of them, I’d have thought it’d be all they talked about!” Merrill blinked in surprise.

“We are talking about the same people?” She said cautiously. “Fenris and Garrett, I mean?”

“Yes!”

“Oh!” she blinked. “I had no idea! I’d have thought Fenris wouldn’t get along with him, because of the mage thing you know, but I suppose it is kind of hard not to like Hawke, and he is attractive, but then so is Fenris, really the two of them together would be a rather formidable team, but… I still don’t know if I believe it.” She shook her head.

“Maker.” Carver muttered, shaking his head, and against his will a smirk worked it’s way onto his face. “I suppose we’ll have to see then, yeah?” He asked, and she chuckled.

“Yes, I suppose so.” She agreed.

It wasn’t long after that that they both paid and then made their way out of the bar, and then split up – Merrill heading back to the Alienage and Carver to Gamlen’s house, in a sour mood once more, although perhaps a good bit less sour than he’d been before talking to Merrill.

He just really, _really_ hated his uncle’s house, and pretty much everything that had to do with it. Hated the way his mother had to deal with her brother and the loss of her estate, hated watching Bethany fight for her life for _weeks_ in the back bedroom, hated being trapped there with Garrett went off to save the word without him.

Hated that it was not a home and never would be a home, and that to him it meant he didn’t belong anywhere.

He paused outside the door, not wanting to go inside just yet, not wanting his day of freedom to end. He thought back to the little girl he’d seen, how happy she’d been even being covered from head to toe in dirt and ash, how brightly she’d smiled despite not having shoes on her feet. What was is that she had that he didn’t?

Why was it so easy for her to smile?

And Merrill, outcast by her clan, feared by her fellow mages, forced to live alienated from the rest of them simply because she was an elf, with her parents and one of her brothers dead, the other distant, and the third off in another country with hardly any time to write to her… how could _she_ smile so easily, be so cheerful _all the time?_

What was he missing?

He gritted his teeth and grabbed the door knob, shoving it open forcefully as he marched inside, and then let it slam behind him with a rather satisfying but empty BANG!

Bethany, who’d been sitting at the kitchen table, jumped and spilled the water she’d been drinking, and Isabela across from her flinched towards her knives for a second with a sharp glance in his direction. Then the expression softened and she let out a heavy sigh.

“Maker, Carver, don’t you know better than to surprise a woman with knives?” She asked. “Had I not had so much self control, there might be a blade between your eyeballs right now.”

“Thank god for your self control, then.” He rolled his eyes. “Merrill was looking for you, by the way.”

“So you _did_ go see Merrill!”

Carver groaned as his mother rounded the corner, dread pooling in his stomach. _I had ONE GOAL._ He berated himself. _Don’t let mother find out. ONE GOAL, Carver, and look what you’ve done now._

“Actually we just sort of… ran into each other.” He muttered. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

“Of course not dear.” She replied with a knowing nod. He sighed.

“Carver, why in the Maker’s name did you slam the door in the first place?” Bethany asked crossly, wiping water off her shirt. He shrugged.

“Sorry.” He muttered. She frowned at him, but then seemed to look him over and decided to let it go.

“It’s fine, just be careful.” She shrugged. He nodded and joined them in the kitchen, frowning at Isabela.

“Why are you here, of all places?” he asked. “Waiting for Garrett to come wandering back? I’d book your calendar, who knows how long you’ll be here.” He muttered the last bit and wasn’t quite sure anyone heard him until he caught Bethany’s disapproving glare from across the room. He pretended not to see and turned away.

“Actually I came to keep Bethy company.” Bela laughed. “Merrill and I were going to go shopping tomorrow, and I was wondering if she wanted to come.”

“I already asked mother.” Bethany said, and Leandra just sighed. She wasn’t _overly_ fond of Isabela, but she did respect her to a certain extent and at the very least trusted her enough to keep her daughter safe. “So I won’t be here tomorrow morning, but we’ve got dinner planned tomorrow.”

“And dinner tomorrow is different from other dinners because…?” He asked, and she rolled her eyes.

“Well for one, we’ll be eating at the table like a _family._ ” She said. Carver’s fist clenched at his side but instead of showing it in his fact he just scoffed.

“A family? Tell that to…” he cut off, gaze darting to his mother for a second, and guilt shot him like an arrow when he saw her expression tighten. His expression darkened and he turned away again. “Fine, whatever.”

“Garrett said he’d come.” Bethany said quietly, and Carver froze.

“Did he?” He asked.

“Mhmm.” His sibling nodded. “He… he promised, Carv. He’ll be here.”

Carver paused at the entrance to the hallway, firmly intent on going to his room and falling asleep. Then he looked over his shoulder and shrugged.

“We’ll see.”

 

Garrett didn’t show up.

In fact, none of them saw him all day.

Bethany and Leandra were worried, but Carver didn’t want to hear it. Instead he pushed his chair back so hard it tipped over, threw his plate in the sink, and stormed outside, ignoring their concerned calls.

_Screw him._

_Screw Garrett and his stupid fucking chivalry._

It wasn’t that he’d wanted to spend time with his brother, it was that _Bethany and Leandra_ had wanted to spend time with him, and he’d _promised_ them he’d come.

And they’d trusted him, believed him.

But he never came.

 _Damn you, Garrett._ He cursed, pacing angrily outside, down the length of the house and back over and over again. _Damn you for hurting them. You fucking liar. You promised. You promised so many things, Gare, and look where we are now. You promised…_

“You _promised!”_ Carver shouted suddenly, aloud, screaming in anger and throwing his fist as hard as he could against the wall.

There was a loud crack, and then searing pain all the way up his arm. He staggered back and then his knees buckled, and he fell to the ground with a pained hiss, clutching at his wrist.

Broken. He knew it.

But, sitting there with tears of pained shock running down his face, he couldn’t find it in him to care. Betrayal coursed through him stronger than any physical pain, not that it drowned it out, mind you – his wrist was hurting so bad he was almost certain he was going to pass out. He just didn’t bother to try to fix it.

 _Damn you, Garrett._ He thought again, curling up against the flagstones, pulling himself into the shadows with a pained whimper. _This is…_

_This is all your fault._


	8. In Which Carver Goes to the Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they're huge dorks, Carver's got a broken hand, someone hug Anders, so much fluff, all of it fluff, hope you enjoy~

Anders liked to hum as he worked. Some patients said it helped calm them, while others just gave him funny looks, but said nothing, because where else were they going to go?

The problem with humming, however, is sometimes he doesn’t hear things, such as the doors opening, or people walking in, or clearing their throats awkwardly while standing in the corner, which is exactly where he found one Carver Hawke nearly twenty minutes after he’d arrived.

“Maker!” he cursed, jumping and nearly spilling all the supplies he’d just so carefully arranged. The boy jumped too, startled, and his eyes widened. For a minute, Anders thought he was actually going to run away. “Wait, wait, sorry, you just… you scared me!” he laughed, shaking his head. “Andraste’s ass, Carver, why didn’t you _say_ anything?”

“I did!” Carver protested. “It’s not my fault you’re deaf.” He looked around. “It doesn’t look like how I thought it would.” He said, frowning slightly. Anders shrugged.

“And what were you expecting?” Carver wrinkled his nose.

“It still smells.” He said. Anders rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep from smirking slightly.

“Yes, well, that comes with being in darktown. Also from, you know, bloodied, dirty people sleeping in here while they heal.” Anders said, turning and wiping his hands on a cloth to get some of the elfroot off. “I wish I could say you get used to it eventually, but I’ve had no such luck.” Carver just kept frowning. There was a slightly conflicted look on his face, like he wasn’t sure if he should be there or not. And honestly, Anders felt for the kid – Garrett was, of course, always out, and not having magic of his own probably alienated him from his siblings even more. He hadn’t seen him much, since Garrett wasn’t fond of endangering his siblings, but what he had seen of him told him that Carver was angry. Pretty much all of the time.

And anger had to come from somewhere, right?

Anders knew a bit about dealing with masks, and anger. Both of which he just _knew_ the boy in front of him was struggling with. And that made him want to help.

Plus, complaining about Garrett was in fact, very entertaining.

He realized Carver still hadn’t said anything yet.

“So… what brings you down here?” He asked, and then a pause stretched out again. He raised a curious eyebrow. “You know it’s fine to say you just wanted to visit, right? I always enjoy company.”

“N-no.” Carver grunted. “My… hand hurts. A bit. It’s fine, just. Hurts. So I figured…” He shrugged, and Anders laughed.

“Right, sure.” He said, positive the boy was just covering, making an excuse to come down. “I’ll check it in a minute, okay?”

“…okay.” Carver shifted.

“You know you can come out of the corner?” Anders said. “There’s no one else here, and even if there was, it’s not like you’ve got a quarantine-worthy disease.” He turned back his herbs. A moment later there was the shuffling of feet, and then Carver was at his side, still frowning slightly.

“I’m surprised you managed to find your way here.” Anders said. “You’ve only been once, right?”

“Uh… once, yeah. Right.” Carver blushed, and that was odd. Generally people only blushed when they were embarrassed… or lying.

Anders chose not to point it out. After all, he was trying to _befriend_ the younger Hawke, not make him into yet another enemy. There was another pause, and Anders raised an eyebrow. “You know, generally conversations go better when you _say_ something.” Carver sent him a little glare and huffed.

“Well what do _you_ want to talk about?” He muttered. Anders shrugged.

“I think spontaneous conversation is more fun than planned conversation. Those are called _meetings_ , Carver.” He said with a laugh. “Say what comes to mind.”

“I really hate the Mines.” Carver said instantly. There was a pause, and then Anders let out another laugh, shaking his head.

“And, pray tell, how did _that_ come up?”

“The smell reminds me of the dragons.” Carver shrugged. Anders snorted.

“I know it’s bad, but it’s not _that_ bad!”

“I could have sworn you said it didn’t stop bothering you.” Carver noted.

“It doesn’t! I mean, it _does_ bother me still. But it’s nothing like those blasted mines your brother owns.”

“Mhmm.” Carver agreed sarcastically, and Anders realized the kid was actually _picking on him._ This brought yet another laugh.

When’s the last time he laughed this much, again?

_You are getting distracted, Anders._

His laughter abruptly stopped. Ah, yes, and that was the reason _why_ he hadn’t laughed in forever.

 _Shut up for a minute, would you?_ He demanded of the spirit in irritation. _I’m doing something._

“Anders?” Carver asked, frowning, and the mage shook his head.

“Nothing, sorry. Just thinking to myself for a bit. Zoned out, you know? Tiredness will do that to a person.”

“You should sleep more, then.” Carver rolled his eyes.

“Easier said than done?”

“I thought you were an all-powerful mage.” The younger Hawke said. Anders chuckled.

“While that may be true, I was _also_ a Warden, and just because I’m away doesn’t mean the dreams stop.” He said. “Haven’t got a decent night’s sleep in years.”

“Poor little magey.” Carver rolled his eyes, and hey, that was uncalled for, “Can’t you just… _magic_ yourself to sleep?”

“That’s not exactly how it works.” Anders shook his head. “It would be handy if I could, though.”

_Anders, you DO have things to do. But not with this child._

_I thought I said hush._ He replied.

“How is the boy?” Carver asked. “Who we brought back.” there was a pause, and then he added, “uh… Bethany wanted me to ask.”

“Oh, he went home just fine.” Anders assured him. “I managed to get to the head injury before it spread too far, and there wasn’t much I could do for his mom but set the arm and put a brace on it… she’s coming back tomorrow, actually.” Anders said, and then his face lit. “Oh, yeah, she wants to talk to you.” Carver blinked.

“What?”

“Well, she said ‘I want to thank them for saving my life, especially the brave, serious young lad’ so I’m _assuming_ she means you. ‘Brave’ could describe any of you, ‘lad’ tends to mean male, so Bethany is out, serious could be you or Fenris, and-“

“And when you think young, you think me.” Carver spat, crossing his arms, and what, that’s not what he was going to say, not how he meant it? Anders frowned.

“Not everything is an insult directed at you, contrary to popular belief, it seems.” He shrugged. “For what I was _going_ to say was that I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to see dark, rude, and broody again voluntarily.” He frowned. “Minus Garrett, and we can’t exactly say he’s just ‘anyone’, can we?”

Carver stared at him a moment, smirk toying at his lips, only for a moment.

“Isabela seems to be fond of him.” he said, and Anders snorted.

“Isabela is fond of a lot of people.” He said, waving his hand.

“Varric doesn’t mind him.”

“Varric is literally the most accepting dwarf in Thedas.” Anders countered. “Speaking of which, did you know, he’s got a spy network through basically all of Kirkwall? He’s basically the only reason that elf hasn’t gotten evicted from the house he more or less stole. Well, Aveline being in the guard does help too, but.” The mage shrugged. That made Carver pause.

“Seriously?”

“Swear it on Andraste’s glorious ass.” Anders grinned, and Carver made a face. He seemed to choose not to comment, however, instead just shaking his head. Then he said, “Speaking of Aveline-“

“Oh, don’t even. Aveline acts like _everyone’s_ mother, even if they are circle-loving broody elves.” Anders cut him off. “And Merrill doesn’t count either, because she’s like a _magnet_ for dark creepy things, like her blasted mirror.” Carver frowned slightly, and was he blushing _again?_

“Merrill’s not so bad…” He said, and Anders raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?” he asked, smirking. “Got a thing for elves, Carver? Maybe it runs in the family.”

Carver’s blush intensified.

 _”N-no!”_ He protested, shoving the mage’s arm, and Anders broke out in laughter, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright, it was a simple question.” He chuckled. Carver huffed and crossed his arms.

 _”Mages.”_ He muttered.

“You know, Merrill’s a mage too.” Anders commented, earning himself another joking shove. “Aw, come on, even tough warriors like you are allowed to like people.” Anders continued. “At least _somebody_ here should have a decent relationship, and don’t go telling me Garrett and Fenris have one, because they’re literally a mess eighty percent of the time.” He said, ignoring the painful twinge in his chest. Carver paused, and then looked at him, frowning again, rather disapprovingly. “What?”

“I don’t understand you.” Carver said plainly. Anders raised an eyebrow.

“Not many people do. I’m not even sure _I_ understand myself. In fact, I’m _sure_ I don’t.” He grinned, but Carver didn’t.

“Why are you okay with it?” the warrior asked him, and Anders paused. Then he sighed.

“Did I say I was?” he muttered. “Look, Garrett is his own man. If he wants to chase some grumpy elf then what business of it is mine?”

“But you-“

“Yeah, I noticed.” Anders’s mood was suddenly turning sour. As usual, talking about Garrett in any serious sense was never something he was fond of, and yet for some reason this younger Hawke seemed _determined_ to bring it up every single time. “Doesn’t mean I can do anything about it. Besides…”

 _He wouldn’t want me._ He thought to himself. _Not the way I am. Not… not with this spirit inside of me. He couldn’t ever love an abomination. Who could?_

_He is a distraction, Anders. He was only supposed to be a means to an end, a way to fight the Templars. You have forgotten our true mission here._

Anders frowned angrily.

 _Maybe for YOU that’s all it was._ He replied. _But I happen to like having friends and healing people. I don’t have to alienate myself in order to save the mages!_

 _Do you?_ Justice asked, and then fell silent. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. There was a pause, and then, “…Anders?”

The mage blinked, and looked at Carver again, who looked… concerned, almost, but still grumpy at the same time. How, Anders wasn’t sure.

“Sorry, sorry, spaced again.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously not.” Carver crossed his arms, and Anders frowned. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not my business again, right?” And wow, that _could_ have been an apology, if it didn’t sound so dammed angry. It was hard for Anders to tell if the boy felt genuinely sorry, or if he was mad at being withheld information yet again. Maybe some of both?

He sighed.

“I do that, okay? Zone out. I have a lot to think about, you know. Planning. Hiding. It isn’t exactly _easy_ to be a mage. There’s things I’ve got to consider and, you know, think about. And sometimes my thinking comes at rather inopportune times, such as the middle of a conversation. It’s nothing that I’m keeping from _you,_ specifically, so just calm down, would you?” He asked, trying to keep irritation out of his voice, but not entirely sure he succeeded. “I do it to everyone, just ask Garrett.”

Carver at least had the decency to look a _little_ regretful. There was a pause, and then he said, “Speaking of him… have you seen him lately?” Anders frowned.

“I saw him yesterday morning… that was the last time, I think. Why?”

“I didn’t see him last night.” Carver replied evasively, and Anders frowned.

“And that’s new because…?”

“He promised he’d come and he didn’t. Bethany and Mom were upset.” The boy replied. “Just wanted to know how pissed I should be with him at the moment.”

Anders frowned, worry sparking in his chest.

“Last I heard he was going to see Fenris about a job or something.” He said. Carver’s face darkened.

“In that case I’ll go ahead and be plenty pissed.” He replied. “Ditching his _family_ for that _elf…_ ” he gritted his teeth, and Anders frowned, putting the supplies he’d been holding down and turning to face the boy.

“It’s not like him.” Anders said. “Perhaps we should be worried.”

“Don’t bother.” Carver said shortly. “He’ll come dragging his ass back here eventually.” His voice was firm and decisive, like he had complete confidence that Garrett would be fine no matter what.

Anders’s chest ached.

That right there, that’s what Garrett was trying to protect in his younger siblings. They thought he was indestructible, but he wasn’t. They’d never see him half-dead, bleeding out in the middle of the clinic floor, friends scrambling to and fro trying to get Anders the supplies he needed to heal him. And even if things like that were far and in between, it didn’t mean it couldn’t happen again. _Could be happening now._ He thought worriedly. Carver studied him for a moment, then sighed.

“Look, he’s gone all the time. Not coming home one night is nothing to panic over.” he said. “Sometimes we won’t see him three or four days in a row. There’s nothing to be concerned about, at least not yet.”

Anders hesitated, and then sighed.

“I suppose you’ve got a point there.” He said. “I’ll keep an eye out, though, and if I see him and I’ll deliver him to the house personally.” He gave a small but devious smile, and _score_ he could have sworn he saw the younger Hawke smirk for a minute before covering it with his usual scowl.

“Good.” He said, and then after a pause, “…Thanks.” Anders chuckled, shaking his head.

“No problem.” He replied. “Glad to help.”

There was a pause, and then Carver tilted is head, staring at something on the table with an almost disdainful confusion. “What are all these herbs for?”

“Healing people, what else?” Anders rolled his eyes. Carver frowned.

“Why do you need plants to do that?”

“Because magic is stronger with a median of some sort.” He said. “Hence, _staffs_.” He gestured towards where his was leaning against the wall. “Of course, there’s also the fact that I won’t use magic if I don’t have to, and as long as you’ve got a bit of elfroot and a flask, you can have take-home remedies!” Carver frowned, but didn’t say anything more. Anders sighed. “You know, you could stand to be a little more friendly.” He commented.

Carver just glared at him.

“Right.” He shrugged. “Only a suggestion.” He went back to his sorting. There was a pause, and then Carver said, “Do you think they’ll find you?”

“Who?” Anders asked, rolling his eyes. “The wardens, the Templars, that angry family that I-“

“Who do you _think?”_ Carver snapped, and Ander sighed.

“In all honesty, the Templars probably do know I’m here.” He said. “Or at the very least, they know _someone_ is here, healing people. But as long as I don’t cause trouble, I don’t think I’ll be on their priorities list.” He said.

“And that’s it?” Carver asked. “You’ll just spend the rest of life down here, praying you won’t get caught?” he sounded angry. Anders scoffed.

“Of course not.” He said. “Mages need to be free, and if no one else is going to do something about it, then I will. But not yet. And until then, I’d like to say out of the Circle’s sight, yeah?” Carver blinked, and for a split second didn’t look so angry.

It didn’t last long, though.

“You know, magic _is_ dangerous.” He said. Anders frowned.

“How can you say that? Half your family has magic!”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” He shot back.

“So you would have your brother, your _sister_ , locked inside one of the circles for the rest of their lives?” Anders turned to him angrily.

Bad. Bad, bad, bad, he couldn’t get angry. Because already he could feel Justice stirring inside, of him, getting worked up, getting _mad_ -

“No.” Carver said. “The circles are flawed. But if they worked the way they were _supposed_ to, then they might not be so bad.”

“And how are they ‘supposed’ to work?” Anders asked, trying to reign Justice in.

“Well, _teaching_ would be nice.” Carver said. “Dad, he… he taught Garrett and Bethy not to be afraid of magic. He _taught_ them to use it. Didn’t just throw chains on them and that was that.” He said. “Because untrained magic is dangerous. You can’t deny that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having magic.” Anders replied.

“I never said there was.”

“Sure sounded like it.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t.” Carver glowered at the wall. “All I said was that it could be dangerous, and that you shouldn’t hate people for being wary of it. It’s not like blood magic and abominations are rare occurrences.”

“We wouldn’t have to turn to blood magic if they didn’t oppress us!” Anders defended. “If they didn’t threaten to kill us, make us Tranquil just because they _can_ , then maybe less mages would feel the need to defend their lives by making deals with demons!”

“And you expect them to let up simply because there _might_ be less blood mages?” Carver rolled his eyes. “Do you _hear_ yourself?”

“Well what would _you_ have them do, then?” Anders demanded.

“Start a new Circle. A _different_ Circle, not under the control of the Chantry.” He shrugged. “People are going to be opinionated, that doesn’t mean the people that hate magic get to run it right from the start. Test it. If it works, use it.” He said. “But instead people will just sit around and complain, and nothing will ever change.” He shook his head. “It’s stupid.”

“Everyone complains, Carver. Even you.” Anders muttered. “I still think Mages should be free. No one should have to live with a leash around their neck and their hands tied behind their back.” Carver raised an eyebrow.

“Not even Fenris?” He asked. Anders frowned at him.

“As much as I hate the elf, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” He said quietly. Carver paused, and then nodded once in agreement. “I mean, I could stand for him to be, you know, somewhere else.” Anders continued, trying to lighten the mood again. “Perhaps Fereldan. He could rip out hearts to _his_ heart’s content.” He sniggered, and Carver groaned, rolling his eyes. Then something passed over his expression, something darker. Anders frowned, but it was gone when he blinked.

“I don’t think Garrett knows what he’s doing.” The boy said. “Not that that’s anything new.” He frowned. “I don’t trust Fenris. He’s going to get hurt, my brother. And I’m going to say ‘I told you so’ when it happens.” Anders chuckled, but then he hesitated. Carver raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

“Garrett cares about too many people far too much.” He said. “And as much as he seems it, he’s not indestructible.” He frowned. “If that elf hurts him, I’ll break his face and toss his ass into the nearest dumpster.” There was a pause, and then he heard Carver ask, quietly but thoughtfully, “Would you try to take his place?”

Anders paused.

And then he sighed.

“If Garrett doesn’t want me, then he doesn’t want me.” He said finally. “There’s a lot more to this world than simple attraction, too. Complications would… arise, if…” he shook his head. “No, no… No. It’s… it’s not going to happen.” He said. “And I’m not going to get my hopes up waiting.” Carver frowned again.

“Does he even know?” he demanded. Anders blinked.

“I… don’t know?” He shrugged. “He’s never brought anything up.” Carver shook his head.

“I can’t tell whether you’re brave or being a coward.” He muttered.

“Excuse me?” Anders frowned again.

“Are you not saying anything because you’re scared of what he’ll do?” Carver asked. “Or are you genuinely worried about what the affects would be? Because one of them is wise. And the other? The other doesn’t sound like a man who deserves Garrett anyways.”

 _He’s right._ Anders thought. _I don’t._

“Maybe…” He tried, but his sentence died. He tried again. “Maybe a little of both.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment.

“If it makes a difference,” Carver said after a moment, “You’re not as much of a coward as the elf is. When I asked him the same question, he couldn’t even give me an answer.”

_What?_

Anders blinked. Had… had the little Hawke been _testing_ him, this whole time?

He looked at the boy, who was once again red in the face, but also looked vaguely smug, and satisfied with himself. _Little shit._ Anders thought in amusement, and then he was chuckling slightly, because for some reason he just found the whole thing funny now.

“What part of that was entertaining to you?” Carver muttered, but Anders just shook his head and kept laughing.

“Nothing, nothing…” he said. “You’re not bad, Carver. Not bad at all.”

Carver blushed again. Then he said, “Anyways, are you going to look at my hand or not? I’ve been gone a lot longer than I told Bethy, and if I don’t get back she’ll sick Garrett on me.”

Anders blinked.

“Wait, you were serious?” he asked. Carver’s eyes slid to him in a surprised glare.

“Uh, yes?” he asked in irritation. “Why else do you think I came all the way down here?” His face was red still, so Anders knew he was lying, at least a little, but…

“Well for goodness sake, let me see it!” he said, rolling his eyes. “I can’t do much with your arms all crossed like that.”

Carver sighed, and then gingerly uncross his arms, wincing slightly, and holy shit that wasn’t just _bruised_ it was _purple_ and, _”Maker,_ Carver, what in the name of _Andraste_ did you _do?”_

Carver’s glare looked a little poutier now, and he just shrugged.

“I was doing… _something_ …” he shifted, “and it bent the wrong way, okay?” he asked, irritated. “Can you fix it or not?” Anders rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I can fix it, you grumpy butt. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I thought you were just… making excuses, or something!”

“You certainly have a high opinion of yourself, then.” Carver raised an eyebrow. Andres sighed in exasperation.

“Just go sit down over there and let me get some supplies, would you?” he commanded, and Carver, although scowling at him, complied. Anders grabbed one of the Health poultices he’d just made and his supplies for broken arms and then walked over to where Carver was sitting, looking rather uncomfortable up on the table. “Arm out.” Anders commanded, feeling himself slip into healer mode. Carver just gave him an odd look, and Anders huffed. “Carver, I swear by the Maker, give me your arm.”

Carver rolled his eyes and extended his arm.

“Thank you.” Anders said, and then took his hand, frowning in concentration. He did the usual routine – bend it a little, ask what hurts, twist it some, measure the amount of pain coming off the patient in front of him. “Right… hold still.” He muttered, and then he closed his eyes and nudged some of his magic into Carver’s arm, poking around for anything to drastically out of place. Carver might have protested at one point, he wasn’t sure. He’d learned over the months that he’d been there that if you just pushed through their pain for long enough to fix what needed fixing, it made people feel better faster in the long run of things, and had basically tuned out little grunts or ‘ow’s that came from people while doing this. When he finished, he opened his eyes again, only to find that Carver was glaring at him intensely and his other hand was balled in a fist.

“Ow.” He said once, loudly. Anders scoffed and rolled his eyes, but he was smirking.

“You’re less than a baby than Garrett is.” He commented. “First time I had to do this for your brother he was more or less crying by the end of it.” Carver frowned.

“When did Garrett have a…” He started, but cut off with a grunt and an exasperated sigh. “You know what, never mind.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Anders sighed, turning to grab his supplies for the cast.

“He doesn’t want to worry your mother, or you for that matter.” He said. “Don’t judge him too harshly.”

“He’s my brother, I can judge him any damn way I want.” Carver muttered. “Especially if he’s going to go put himself into life-threatening danger on a daily basis and not tell anyone.” Anders just sighed, and then gently grabbed Carver’s hand again and frowned. “What?” Carver asked.

“Still wondering how you managed to do this, but I’m not going to ask since you probably won’t tell me.” He replied with a quick grin. Then he said, “Right, well, I’m going to set it and brace it, and then you can come back in two weeks or so for a check up.” Carver rolled his eyes and started to say something, but Anders cut him off with, “No, Carver, I know where you live and I _will_ walk to your house and examine your arm in front of everyone if you don’t come back.” And after a pause, he said, “And I’ll tell Hawke.”

Carver’s glare intensified, and Anders smirked slyly. “After all, I’m assuming your brother doesn’t know, and I’m _also_ assuming you’re going to try to keep it front him.” Carver’s flush told him he was right. He grinned in triumph. “So, will I see you in two weeks, then?”

“Asshole.” Carver muttered in response, and Anders just laughed. Then he started with setting everything up, making sure the caste was tight but not too tight, and then started to wrap it with a thin but strong piece of fabric. Carver grunted and pulled away before he could start, staring at it. “No way.”

“What?” Anders shrugged. “It’s the only color I have at the moment.”

“It’s _pink.”_

“So I noticed.” The mage grinned. “Now hush. If I don’t put this on then it’ll fall off.” That wasn’t _exactly_ true, but Carver wouldn’t know that…

The boy fixed him with a glare.

“Liar.”

 _Okay, maybe he would_.

Still, instead of protesting more, the warrior held his arm out once again, and Anders grinned. Then he wrapped the leather around and magicked it into place.

“There.” He said. Then his eyes lit. “Oh! I almost forgot. Wait a second.” He turned back around and picked up a pen. Carver watched him warily.

“What’s that for?” he asked. Anders shrugged innocently.

“You’ll see.” He said, and grabbed the hand again before Carver could flinch away. Then he started drawing, first two triangles and then a face, a nose, a little mouth…

“Hey!” Carver protested, realizing what he was doing and trying twist away. The pen skidded across the brace.

“Aww!” Anders face fell. “You killed Mr. Fluffles!”

“You’re drawing a _cat_ on my _arm!”_ Carver shouted.

“Yes, and it was a good one until you jerked around!” Anders replied, still pouting. “Give it back, I’m not done yet.”

“No!”

“You can’t just leave it unfinished!”

“Watch me.”

Anders fixed him with a glare, and of course Carver was _always_ glaring. They stood there for a few moments, locked in battle.

Then Anders grinned again.

“I mean, I _could_ still tell Hawke about this…”

Carver’s glare turned downright hostile. Then he thrust his arm towards Anders, nearly smacking him in the face. Anders cheered and took the arm again, starting to finish his drawing.

“Blackmailing asshole mage.” Carver muttered.

“What was that?” Anders asked innocently. The warrior just grunted.

A few minutes later, Mr. Fluffles was complete, with a line straight through his face. Anders sighed. “He reminds me of Ser Pounce-A-Lot. He’s got a battle scar, see? Ah, poor little guy.”

Carver rolled his eyes.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“He was my best friend!”

“That really, _really_ doesn’t help you.” Carver pointed out. “Honestly that’s just more sad than anything.”

Anders turned around and grumbled as he was putting his things away, but he was still smirking in triumph. When he turned back, Carver was still sitting there. He raised an eyebrow.

“Well?” he asked. “Is there any _other_ grievously broken bones I need to examine?”

“No.” Carver snapped, sliding off the table. He reached for his pocket, but Anders shook his head.

“Don’t bother. You’re a friend, and I don’t make friends pay.” Carver stared at him for a long moment and didn’t reply. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “I’ve got to go.” He turned and walked towards the door. Anders shook his head a sighed.

“A thanks might be nice, though?” he called.

“You blackmailed me into letting you draw a _cat_ on my _arm.”_ Carver stated without turning around. Anders laughed, shrugging.

“It was a cute cat.”

“It’s a _pink brace.”_

“It’ll suffice.”

“Bye, Anders.” The boy muttered, and then, just like that, he was out the door and gone down the tunnels. Anders blinked, and then sighed, turning back to his work, _almost_ sad that the boy had left and still chuckling.

“Bye to you, too, Carver.” He said to himself. “Come again soon.”

 


	9. In which Justice Makes an Apearance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HELLOOOOOOOOO JUSTICE :D  
> someone give Anders hugs pls

_Stupid fucking mage._

Carver’s feet thudded into the ground as he walked, glaring at the pink brace on his hand and the scared cat that stared unblinkingly back at him all hours of the day. It’d been two weeks, and he was about ready to tear the damn thing off whether his arm was fine or not. Unable to move, to shower properly, to hold things… not to mention, hiding his arm awkwardly under the table or behind his back whenever his family was around, and constantly having to wear long sleeves for that same purpose…

He was so _freaking_ done with it all.

“Better get this damn thing off of me or I’ll punch him in the face.” He muttered, turning the corner of a building. He was determined not to get lost this time, and was looking for the statue Aveline had pointed out to him…

And also kept an eye out for a dimly lit lantern in the distance, just in case. He idly wondered if he would ever see the little girl again, but he doubted it. There were so many people in Darktown, and kids like her often didn’t stay in the same place for more than a few weeks. Still, he wouldn’t object to seeing her again. At least she’d been friendly.

As he was thinking this, and walking along an oddly vacant path, he suddenly heard a low moan. He paused, frowning, and looked around, but saw no one.

Which was odd, because all the streets always had _someone_ on them. Growing wary, his good hand drifted to his sword (for the record, getting the stupid thing on with only one functioning hand had not been fun) and his eyes narrowed.

The sound came again, and this time he realized it came from below him. He looked down, and took a few steps forwards, peering around the side of the closest building…

…only to find a girl, badly beaten, her clothes in tatters and her hair singed on the side, thick, jagged scratches running down her arms and legs, covered in dirt and sobbing pitifully against the ground, barely even breathing.

“Maker.” He cursed, rushing to her side. “Excuse me.” He said gently, brushing some hair back from her face, but she flinched away, sobbing a little harder and drawing in on herself. “I want to _help_ you.” He said. She blinked her eyes open, and he saw fear there. Fear, and agony. “Trust me. My… friend, he’s a healer.” He said. “He’s close by, I promise. He can help you, but you’ve got to trust me.” He stared at her, and she stared back, tears still running down her face.

Then she gave a hesitant nod. “Alright.” He agreed, relief washing through him. If she’d said no, there wouldn’t have been much he could’ve done… carrying her was already going to be hard enough, what with his arm in it’s _stupid fucking PINK_ cast, and if she were struggling it’d have made it impossible. “I’m going to pick you up now, okay? I’ll be gentle, I promise.” He said, and then gently scooped her up off the ground. She still flinched when he touched her, and he doubted if she’d been able to move that she’d have stayed long enough to be carried at all. Then he set off at a brisk pace towards where he thought the clinic was, but was still careful not to bounce her too much. She was pretty light, and couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old, with darker skin and black hair. _Antivan?_

Within five minutes, he saw the increasingly familiar landmark and breathed a sigh of relief – even with the short walk, the girl’s breaths had become shallower and shallower, and the tension just seemed to leak out of her like her strength was slipping away by the second. “Just a little longer, hold on.” He said, and, after a glance over his shoulder, started up the staircase.

When he reached the top, the lantern was lit.

“Anders!” he called, not loudly, and kicked the door. “Anders, it’s important.” There was some shuffling, and then the door opened to reveal a very confused and concerned healer, frowning for a split second before his face melted into understanding, gaze landing on the girl.

“Bring her in, quickly.” He said. “On that table over there.” He nodded towards said table, and Carver for once did as he was told. When he set her down her body felt like complete deadweight, and he honestly wasn’t sure if she was still alive.

A second later Anders was at his side, running glowing hands over the girl’s body, assessing her injuries with a dead serious look on his face and determination in his eyes. Carver had never seen Anders look so… focused, on anything, before.

“Carver, I need you to go to that table and grab the Injury Kit.” Anders said without looking away from her. Carver nodded and turned, looking for the object, and then spotted it sitting on another booth a few feet away. When he brought it back, Anders said, “Good, now take the gauze out and wrap her arms and legs as soon as I finish stitching up the skin, alright?”

“Okay.” Carver replied quietly, watching as Anders’s glowing hands began to pass slowly over the gashes in her limbs, and as the skin knitted itself somewhat back together under his palms. He was frowning in concentration, muttering, “there’s too much, I don’t know if I can get it all… these are going to scar, but I don’t have _time…_ ”

“It’ll be fine, just _save her._ ” Carver replied urgently, and Anders huffed what might have been a chuckle if he wasn’t so focused on his healing. As soon as he moved from one arm to the next, Carver was there, wrapping light pink gauze all he way around her arms, hoping he wasn’t pulling it too tight, but also tight enough to stop whatever bleeding it was Anders hadn’t been able to catch. They did this for every cut on her – there were seven bad ones, and a dozen or so more that were shallow but probably still stung like hell. The bruising on her face and shoulders Anders applied ointment to, which instantly faded into her skin and began clearing away the black-and-blue splotches.

The entire process took almost half an hour. When they finished, she still hadn’t woken up, but her breathing had evened out and gotten stronger, and she no longer looked completely like a zombie. Honestly, with all the gauze it was more like a mummy than anything.

“What happened to her?” Anders asked, wiping his hands off and turning to Carver, looking at him for the first time since he’d arrived. “Did you see?” Caver shook his head.

“I just heard her moaning and saw her lying on the ground.” He said. Anders sighed.

“She was beaten pretty badly.” His fist clenched. “Whoever could do this to a _child…_ ”

Carver couldn’t help but agree with the unspoken threat in his words.

He didn’t get to reply, though, because suddenly the girl’s eyes blinked open and she began to cough.

“Dammit.” Anders cursed, turning to her. “Carver, get a bowl.”

 _A bowl?_ He thought in disbelief. “Where?”

“By the sink!” Anders snapped.

That was the first time he’d ever heard Anders _snap_ at anyone, especially him.

He did as he was told, finding a large cooking pot that would usually be used for boiling water and brought it to him. Coughs continued to wrack the girl’s body, and her teeth were stained red with blood.

“What’s wrong? I thought you got it all!” Carver demanded.

“One of the wounds must have punctured her lungs. She can’t breathe - her chest is filled with blood.” Anders replied. “Sit her up, please. Laying down is only going to make it worse.” For the second time in as many hours, Carver found himself supporting the girl’s weight as Anders’s glowing sparking green fingers hovered across her chest and shoulders. It was hard to get a grip on her, what with the cast and all, and more than a bit painful, but he gritted is teeth and chose to ignore it.

There were more important things at stake than a broken wrist.

She tried to flinch away at first, but when Anders didn’t actually touch her, she seemed to calm down some. Then he turned to the injury kit again and dug around for a second, and then got out something that looked kind of like a straw, with a sharp point on the end. When he turned back, his face was grave. “This might hurt,” The mage said to her, “but if I don’t do it now then you’ll eventually suffocate.”

She looked terrified, and Carver wasn’t sure if he’d have _told_ her it was going to hurt…or that she was going to suffocate, either, honestly. Anders looked at him, deadly serious.

“Hold her still.”

Carver paled, nodded, and braced himself.

When Anders punctured her lung, he had to look away, and tried to block out the sound of her screaming. All his energy went into keeping her as still as possible, which wasn’t _that_ hard, but she was still struggling, and the angel was awkward, and she kept bumping his arm, which would send pain shooting all the way up his elbow and into his shoulder. It seemed like it lasted _forever_ , the kicking and screaming, it just _wouldn’t end_...

And then suddenly, it was over, and the girl slumped against him, passing out like she had before. He was breathing heavier than he realized, and he couldn’t move, his muscles were frozen with shock.

“Carver.” A familiar voice said his name, but he couldn’t _move_ , couldn’t shift away even if he wanted to-

A hand on his face got his attention, turning it slightly; the touch gentle and warm.

“Carver.” Anders said again. “It’s over now. You can put her down.” His eyes were gold, Carver realized. He’d thought they just light brown before, but they were _gold_ , almost seeming to shine with a luminescent sort of glow, and he looked somewhere between worried and resigned, and, “Come on, Carver, let go.”

The hand moved off his face, and to the girl, gently prying his fingers away and taking her weight. He took a shaky step backwards, and Anders smiled, nodding. “Good.” He laid the girl back on the table, and then guided Carver away, towards the back of the room where there was an old ratty couch, and they both sat down on it. As they walked Carver’s senses started to return, and he shook his head, trying to clear it, but he could almost still feel her leaning against him-

“I’m sorry that was so sudden.” Anders said, sounding guilty. “If I hadn’t-“

“She would have died, I know.” Carver finished. “It’s fine. I just…” he took a deep breath. “Bethany, she reminded me of…” Anders’s eyes widened in understanding.

“Oh, Maker.” He cursed. “Carver, I’m sorry.”

“She’s alive, isn’t she?” he asked, and the mage nodded. “Then it’s fine.” He sighed, and there was a pause. “Did Garrett ever tell you?” Anders hesitated, and then nodded.

“Sort of.” He said. “I know you were leaving Fereldan when an Ogre attacked your family, and Bethany got hurt. I know he blames himself too, but that’s about it.” Carver’s fist clenched.

“He should.” His voice was cold. “If we’d just _stayed-_ “

“You couldn’t have, Carver.” Anders cut him off, shaking his head. “The Blight would have gotten you, or the Darkspawn would have overrun your house.”

“We could have fought them.” Carver said. “If we’d stayed, we could have helped win against the Blight. Merrill’s friend, Min… We could have joined him and helped the Wardens.”

“No.” Anders said, not sharply. “Trust me, Carver… you’re better off here.” The boy scoffed.

“Right, of course we are.” He rolled his eyes. “No house, no money, an uncle who gambled our house away, having to keep our heads down because fucking _magic_ and the Templars in this city… but of course, that’s better than actually _doing_ something to help would be.” Anders sighed.

“I know you won’t believe me.” He said. “But the Wardens… it’s not something you would have wanted.”

“Let’s agree to disagree, then.” Carver muttered. There was another pause, and then he said, “She almost died because we weren’t watching our backs.”

“Carver-“

“We were _running away_ , Anders, and she almost _died._ I watched it pick her up and if we’d been a second later, he’d have crushed her. She was screaming, and I…” he had to pause, to take a breath so his voice wouldn’t break, “I couldn’t do anything for her. I couldn’t help her, I couldn’t… She was going to die and all I could do was stand there.” He said, and Anders didn’t know what to say. He wanted to hug him, wanted to console him somehow, but he knew Carver wouldn’t appreciate the gesture, or at least he didn’t think he would. “That’s why I hate it when people just stand around. They _can_ do something… and if you _can_ , then you’re lucky. None of them know what it’s like to… to stand there and know there’s nothing that will help, that they’re _useless_ and can’t solve the problem.” He paused. “That someone they love is suffering and there’s nothing they can do about it.” He finished, the end of his sentence coming out faster than the rest. His voice wasn’t angry, exactly… more regretful and pained than anything.

But it made a bit more sense, now. Why Carver was so angry at everything, all of the time. Even if he didn’t realize it, he must still feel that hopelessness, and everything going on around him – Garrett’s secrecy and distance, their unfortunate living quarters, his mother’s sadness – it just reminded him of it. And no one knew… All they saw was a stubborn, sometimes sort of jerk-ish teenager that needed to get a sense of reality. _But,_ Anders thought, _maybe he’s got more of a grasp on reality than some of us do._

“Are you going to say something, or just keep staring at me like a kicked puppy?” Carver muttered, flushing and turning away. There was a pause, and then Anders huffed indignantly.

“Don’t compare me to a dog!” he protested. “Perhaps a sorrowful kitten?”

Carver sent him a withering look, but Anders could _almost_ see the smirk on his face, and inwardly heaved a sigh of relief. After all, how did one even reply to something like that? If he’d said he was sorry, Carver would have gotten angry and told him it wasn’t his fault, that it was just a fact. He knew the boy well enough to guess that. But, now that some of the tension in the room had faded away, it felt like he could breathe again.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous.” Carver stated, and Anders shrugged innocently.

“I can’t help it if dogs are the bane of my existence.”

“I thought that was Templars.”

“Same difference.”

Carver glared at him, and he grinned. There was a pause, and then Anders sighed.

“Seriously, though, Carver… Well, how do I say this?” He chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his head. “I guess I’m just… happy you showed up here in the end, if that makes sense. I mean, if you _had_ stayed in Fereldan, then you’d never have met any friends, yeah?”

“I had friends.” Carver shot back, but he flushed. Anders raised an eyebrow.

“Mhmm.”

“Besides, it’s… not like I’ve got a lot of friends here, either.” Carver muttered, almost quiet enough that Anders didn’t hear him. He rolled his eyes.

“Carver Hawke, that is total BS and you know it.” He said. “You’ve got Merrill, and Aveline, and Varric, and-“

“They don’t count!” Carver cut him off. “Well, _maybe_ Merrill does. But they’re all just my brother’s friends, Anders, not _mine._ ”

“…and me.” Anders finished. “I’m your friend, Carver.”

Carver flushed and didn’t respond, but he didn’t protest either, and Anders smiled. “And another thing!” he continued, “They can be your friends _as well as_ Garrett’s, if you actually make the effort to get to know them.”

“They’re all older than me!” Carver shot back. “Varric is like, what, thirty? And Aveline is in her late twenties, and I’m willing to bet Isabella is too.” He paused. “Come to think of it, Anders-“

“Don’t you dare ask me how old I am.” Anders cut him off. “We’re all young-ish adults, Carver, age doesn’t matter all that much.”

“Yeah, well, tell them that.” Carver grumbled. “They all treat me like a child. I’m not an ‘adult’ to them.”

“Well then prove to them you are, duh.” Anders chuckled, and leaned over to ruffle Carver’s hair.

Carver flinched in surprise, and Anders froze. They stared at each other for a second, Carver’s hair sticking up at odd angles between Anders’s fingers. Carver was the first to break eye contact, flushing bright red and staring at the wall instead.

“What?” he muttered. “You just surprised me.”

Anders blinked.

Then he grinned, and ruffled it some more.

“Ackg, okay, stop!” Carver protested, flailing his arms and batting Anders’s hands away. He almost regretted it, the action causing his wrist to ache inside the cast, but it was worth it, as when the mage laughed and tried to lean out of reach, he promptly fell off the couch with a loud shout of surprise. “Ha! That’s what you get.” Carver said triumphantly, a grin splitting his face that threatened to turn into laugh, and soon did once Anders broke down first, rolling onto his back with his entire body shaking with amusement.

It was the second time Anders had gotten Carver to completely lose it and laugh as hard as he used to when he was child and Garrett would pick him up by his ankles and swing him in circles, or when Bethany would blow bubbles in her milk and Leandra would scold them but wouldn’t really mean it because Bethany would be crossed eyed with her cheeks puffed out, frothy milk all over her face, and it was just impossible _not_ to laugh. That’s how this was – it was impossible for Carver not to laugh, not to… have fun, being there.

The moment was broken, however, by a low moan, and both of them stopped abruptly and looked over to where the girl was laying on the table. Her hand was moving, and as they listened her breathing grew harder and harder.

“Damn.” Anders cursed, and got to his feet.

Before he walked back to the table, he glanced at Carver, an almost apologetic look on his face. Before Carver had a chance to process it, though, Anders was at the girl’s side, telling her not to sit up and asking her how she felt. Carver sighed and then got to his feet, feeling vaguely empty, sort of like he’d just lost something.

He shook his head and joined Anders at the table.

“…member what happened?” Anders asked. The girl looked terrified, but nodded slowly.

“Y… you’re a mage, right?” she whispered, and he nodded.

“Yes.”

“I…” She started, but her eyes welled up. “I am too, but they… they were going to make me tranquil, I didn’t…” she then began crying in earnest, tears running hot and heavy down her face. “I didn’t know what to do, so I-I ran, but they caught me, a-and I…”

 _”Templars._ ” Anders hissed, all mirth gone from his face, replaced by a mask of complete and utter fury, and for a second Carver sort of hated he girl for killing that few minutes of happiness the two of them had had. “Think they can just do _whatever they want_ …” As he was talking, though, the girl had suddenly gone from flushed to an unnatural shade of grey, especially for someone who’s skin was so dark.

“Anders.” Carver said in alarm. “What’s happening to her?” Anders blinked, and then cursed loudly, fists slamming against the table. Carver jumped at the loud noise, banging his wrist on the wood as well, and he winced, but managed to hold back the gasp of pain. “What?” He demanded, ignoring the pain. “What’s going on?”

 _”They poisoned her.”_ Anders spat. “To ensure she’d die. I didn’t… I wouldn’t have been able to catch it before, there’s… _Fuck it,_ there’s nothing I can do!” He shouted angrily, hitting the table again. The girl didn’t even move, her mouth opening and closing noiselessly as her eyes grew wider and wider.

“What?” Carver demanded, despair settling in the pit of his stomach. “What do you mean, there’s nothing you can do?”

“I mean just that, Carver!” Anders snapped back. “I can’t do _anything,_ I can’t… I can’t heal her, there’s nothing I can do, it’s…” he paused, and then all the anger seemed to seep out of him in one wave, and once it was gone he just looked… broken. “It’s too late.”

Carver just stared at him. That _couldn’t_ be true. Not after everything they’d just done, bringing her here, healing the wounds, getting the blood out of her lungs… She couldn’t just _die_ , it…

“Dammit.” Carver cursed, voice low. “It’s not _fair.”_ He looked at her.

Blank eyes stared back. His stomach dropped, and for a second he thought he was going to throw up. _Is that what Bethany would have looked like?_ He thought sickly. _If she hadn’t made it…_

“Carver.” Once again, it was Anders who pulled him away from her, dragged him out of the memories of those nights, watching Bethany fight for her life, watching as she’d been picked up like a child’s toy and tossed back to the ground just as quickly… “She’s gone.”

Carver turned around and puked all over the floor. He vaguely thought there was a hand on his shoulder and another on his back, keeping him standing, because Maker knew his legs were shaking to much to support his weight by themselves, but he couldn’t see much or feel anything other than wave after wave of loss. _We were so close._ He thought. _And it didn’t even matter._

When there was nothing left in his stomach and the gagging had reduced to a minimum, Anders dragged him back to the couch and had him sit down, and then brought him some water.

“Drink this.” He said. “It’ll help.”

“Nothing will _help this,_ Anders.” Carver snapped angrily.

“Just drink it, Carver. Please.”

Carver sighed. And then he accepted the glass and took a sip, although doing so made his stomach twinge again. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen death before – he’d watched his father die, and Maker knew he’d killed people before too. For some reason, though, this was different. Watching someone so innocent slip away, knowing that he might have been able to save her if he’d just come sooner, if he knew how to heal people, if…

“Don’t blame yourself.” Anders said, as if he could read his mind. “There was nothing either of us could have done.”

“How can you _say_ that?” Carver demanded. “I was _there_ , if I’d been there sooner, if I’d brought her here faster, if-“

“Carver, there was _nothing you could have done.”_ Anders said, not sharply. “We did the best we could. But sometimes, Carver, there _is_ nothing to be done.” He paused. “You said people don’t know what it’s like to feel useless, to know that they _can’t do anything_ to save someone. But…” He paused, gritting his teeth. “I do. Every time someone dies that _I was trying to save,_ every time I _fail…_ I feel that way. It’s one of the downsides of being a healer. _I can’t save everyone._ And if I don’t accept that, then I’ll… I’ll go mad.”

There was a pause. Carver didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t thought of it like that. He hadn’t realized…

“But,” Anders said, and Carver frowned. There was something… off, about his voice, something… _deeper,_ and _… wrong,_ somehow. “I _can_ stop the Templars. _I will DESTROY them._ ”

That was not Anders.

His eyes were glowing blue, light spider webbing across his face as power flooded through the room, and suddenly Anders screamed, dropping to the ground on his hands and knees, the light shining even brighter.

“Anders!” Carver said in alarm, panic building inside him. _Not again, not you too._ Kept repeating over and over in his mind, as irrational as it was. “Anders, what’s wrong?” He knelt on the ground beside the mage, afraid to touch him but not knowing what else to do.

“NO!” Anders screamed, throwing his head back, the blue light shining out of every pore of his body, and the power in the room made it swelteringly hot, compressing the air until it felt like Carver couldn’t even _breathe, what WAS this, what’s happening to him, please not you too, ANDERS…_ “THEY WILL NOT TAKE ANOTHER! I VOWED IT AND IT SHALL BE DONE! THE TEMPLARS WILL _DIE_ FOR THIS!” It was no longer even remotely Anders’s voice – it was deep, still male, but far more powerful, and…

Far more pained, as if everything wrong in the world weighted on his shoulders alone, and he _had_ to stop it or, like Anders said, he would go insane. It was furious, yes, but the _emotion_ in it… whoever this was, _what_ ever this was, it was in pain, so much pain that Carver wasn’t sure how he didn’t just explode from feeling it.

“Anders.” He whispered, watching as the mage stood, head dropping forwards like a zombie but eyes still blazing brightly, and then began to walk towards the door. “Anders… Anders, wait!” He said, growing more urgent, leaping to his feet and darting after the glowing mage. “You can’t go out there like… this, whatever _this_ is, you-“

“I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR YOU, _BOY._ ” Anders-but-not spat, and Carver froze. “YOU ARE A DISTRACTION AND NOTHING MORE. HE HAS THINGS TO BE DOING BUT YOU HAVE KEPT HIM SILENT, KEPT HIM WAITING. THESE DEATHS ARE ON YOUR HANDS! KNOW THIS, HUMAN. WHEN I HAVE FINSHED WITH THE TEMPLARS, I WILL COME FOR YOU.”

Carver’s mouth gaped open and closed, but he couldn’t form any thoughts, much less _words._ He didn’t know what was going on, but he _knew_ that wasn’t Anders, knew that glowing… _thing_ before him was not the man who’d just been laying on the floor laughing not fifteen minutes ago.

And then, for a split second, he dared to think it. _A demon?_

The thought terrified him more than he cared to admit. But then he shook his head. _Anders would never perform blood magic._ He thought. _Besides, that’s not what abominations look like. He’s just… it’s something else, it HAS to be._ His brain was whirring to fast for him to formulate anything solid – meanwhile, Anders-but-not was reaching for the door of the clinic, and if Carver didn’t do something then he would be out and about, doing… who _knows_ what, but based on his words before it seemed fairly clear he was intent on finding and killing Templars.

 _I can’t let that happen._ That one thought managed to solidify, and somehow Carver made it across the room and, without thinking about it, grabbed onto the mage’s arm.

And then everything instantly faded away, and he was suspended in nothingness.

To his left and right, above and below him, everywhere around him, was darkness, and he thought he could hear a scream but it sounded so distant and empty, and the ringing in his ears pretty much drowned it out. He saw nothing, and felt nothing, and…

 _Huh._ He thought idly, looking down.

For the first time in, oh, three weeks, his arm wasn’t throbbing.

Then, suddenly a light started growing, and no matter where he looked it was in the center of his vision, a ball of light that got bigger and bigger until it was in the shape of a man standing before him, garbed in heavy, luminescent armor that was bent in places, warped and rusted with age, and an older design than anything Carver had seen before. It looked… corrupted, almost, tainted with something… _not right._ Carver shuddered inwardly.

And then, “Who are you?” sprang from his lips, although he didn’t remember making the decision to speak.

_I AM JUSTICE. I AM A SPIRIT OF THE FADE, DEDICATED TO RIGHTING THE WRONGS OF THE WORLD. I WILL BRING JUSTICE TO THOSE WHO DESERVE IT, AND FREEDOM TO THOSE WHO ARE WRONGLY OPPRESSED._

“What…” Carver’s voice echoed in the darkness, “what did you do to Anders?”

The spirit regarded him silently for a moment, and then said, _TELL ME, BOY, IS HE IMPORTANT TO YOU? DO YOU WISH TO HELP HIM ON HIS PATH TO JUSTICE, TO FREEDOM FOR THE MAGES?_

“I… don’t know. It depends, I guess.” Carver replied hesitantly. “Magic is dangerous, but it shouldn’t be enslaved or controlled by the Chantry… it should be _taught_.” Justice seemed to think on this for a moment.

 _YOU SEEM TO HAVE A JUST SOUL, CARVER HAWKE, EVEN IF YOUR VISION IS SKEWED. I WILL ALLOW YOU TO REMAIN, FOR NOW. FOR A REASON I CANNOT FATHOM ANDERS INSISTS ON KEEPING THOSE WHOM HE CALLS ‘FRIENDS’ CLOSE TO HIM. SOMETHING ABOUT ‘KEEPING HIM SANE IN THE MIDST OF ALL THIS MADNESS’, I BELIEVE HIS WORDS WERE._ The spirit shook it’s head in what could almost be parental confusion. _BUT, IF YOU HINDER HIS PATH TOWARDS JUSTICE, WE WILL TALK AGAIN, AND IT WILL NOT BE SO CORDIAL._

“What?” Carver asked, but just like that the light was gone. In it’s place was Anders, kneeling on the ground with his hands over his ears, mouth open as if shouting but no sound coming out. “Anders!” he called, trying to move forwards, but it was like swimming in jello – the darkness seemed to stick to him, to drag him back and keep him in place. Still, the mage looked up, hearing his name, and his eyes searched around desperately. “Anders, I’m here.” Carver said, but Anders stared right through him.

And then he started to fade away. “Wake up, Anders! I’m right here! _Anders!”_ Carver shouted even as the mage vanished from view.

And then so did he, and everything else disappeared along with him, and then he was aware of no more.

 

 

 


	10. In which Carver Gets Rid of his Cast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're sad children hug them
> 
> Carver finally gets to the point of his visit  
> Anders gets hugs  
> everyone is happy (but not really)

“Carver.”

Someone was shaking his arm.

“Carver, wake up.”

He groaned.

“Come on, Carver, _get up!”_

He blinked his eyes open only to see the roof of the clinic looming over him, as well as a set of worried golden eyes.

_Golden eyes._

“Anders?”

“Yeah, it’s… it’s me.” The mage sounded exhausted, and resigned… scared, almost. Carver sighed and sat up, head throbbing painfully. He winced, pressing his good hand to his forehead.

Then he winced again, as suddenly he remembered that here, in the real world, he did in fact still have a broken wrist, and it was still garbed in a pink cast with a scared cat drawn on the side. _Maker, that seems like ages ago._ He thought, even as the horridly familiar pulsing sensation of pain started to build up the more awake and aware of it he became.

“Ow.” He murmured flatly, and then sighed. “What… What happened?”

“Here… let me get it.” Anders said, and suddenly his hand was being taken by the increasingly familiar, warm and callused healer’s hand, and dragged downwards away from his face. At the same time, a second palm ghosted right over where his headache was, but this one was cold. It was a good sort of cold, though, like a refreshing mint, almost, and when Anders pulled away again, his headache was gone.

“Maker.” Carver said. “Can you teach Garrett how to do that?”

Normally Anders would have laughed.

He didn’t this time.

Carver blinked his eyes open, and realized the mage wasn’t looking at him, instead staring at the ground, fist clenched. He frowned.

“What?”

“Carver, what…” Anders said, as if the words were hard to get out, “What do you remember?”

Carver thought.

“She died.” He said flatly. There was no extra emotion this time. Perhaps it was because it was in the past, just like everything else, but he thought that a better reason was of what had happened afterwards. “And you were… not you.” Because possessed Anders had kind of desensitized him to the death of the girl. “Justice, or something. I was dreaming, I think.”

“It wasn’t a dream.” Anders said, turning away. He was sitting on the ground next to Carver, knees pulled into his chest, but his left hand was still wrapped loosely around Carver’s, and he couldn’t tell if he’d just forgotten, or… or _what_ was going on, but… with the expression on Anders’ face, Carver thought it best not to pull away.

Anders looked like he was about to shatter, and damn it if Carver should be the one to deliver the final blow. Besides, it’s not like it was _that_ weird… people held hands all the time. Merrill and Bethany, for instance, right? He frowned. _Then again…_

 _Focus, Carver._ He thought, shaking his head.

“Then what was it?”

There was a pause, and then Anders sighed.

“The Fade.” He said. “Justice’s essence still lingers there. His soul is a direct connection to it. When you touched me, we both got dragged in.”

“And he’s some sort of spirit, then?” Carver asked, not really sure if he believed any of it, or if he was still dreaming.

“Yes.” Anders sighed. “When… I was in Fereldan, with the Wardens, we… we ran into Justice, and he helped us.”

“Right…” Carver said slowly. “And now he’s…?”

“He needed a place to inhabit, to keep his connection to this world.” Anders said. “To correct the injustices that this life wreaks off. He asked me, and eventually I…” he broke off. “I said yes.”

“So.” Carver tried to wrap his mind around this, but it wasn’t working too well. “You’ve got a spirit of Justice, living inside your head?”

“Not… exactly.” Anders shifted, knees sliding even closer in. “he doesn’t live inside of me, he… _merged_ with me. I am him and he is me. His thoughts are my own.”

“You don’t get possessed by yourself, last time I checked.” Carver replied skeptically. Anders groaned in slightly frustration.

“It’s hard to explain, Carver.”

“And he’s… _not_ a demon, right?” Carver asked. The spirit hadn’t felt especially demonic, and last time he checked, Justice wasn’t really something demons were interested in, but it never hurt to ask.

“No, no, he’s… well, just like Demons are the sins of man, there are spirits who embody our virtues.” He said. “Justice is one of them.”

“And… you just _decided_ one day to let this… _spirit_ become a part of you?” Carver asked, the reality of it all still not quite sinking in. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with this information, not sure how he was supposed to feel about it, but maybe if he just kept asking questions, something would come to him somehow.

“I thought it was a good idea at the time.” Anders said. “I thought it was helping my friend. He would have… died, I guess, without a host to live in. And he wanted to help me, help the mages. He saw the injustice in it and wanted to change it. I thought, with his help I could do it… but…” he gritted his teeth, stopping.

“But?” Carver prompted after a moment, not quite sure what else to say.

“But I had too much _anger_ , alright?” Anders muttered. “Once he merged with me, he… changed.” He sighed. “When I see Templars, when I hear about them hurting mages, taking children from their families…things that have always outraged me, but I could never do anything about, like…” he looked at the now-empty table, and Carver wondered when he’d moved the girl and where he’d put her, but didn’t feel like asking at the moment. “Like watching a girl die simply because she was a mage, and not being able to stop it.” He said. “When I feel like that, he… comes out. And he’s not Justice anymore, he’s…” Anders stopped yet again, and Carver did his best not to get annoyed, but it was like pulling teeth, trying to get Anders to explain this.

“He’s what?” Carver prompted with a sigh.

“Vengeance. And he has no mercy.” Anders shuddered, and his hand tightened around Carver’s. “We’ve done things together that I… I _never_ would have…” he shook his head. “Or maybe I would, but he just makes it easier, I don’t know.” He shook his head. “There’s no way to undo it now, anyway. It’s too late.”

The despair in Anders’s voice… it almost instantly wiped away all his anger towards the mage and released it with a burning hatred for the spirit living inside him, or… as a part of him, or whatever it was.

“And you can’t control him at all?” Carver asked, but he thought he knew the answer already.

“No. He… only comes out when I lose control of my emotions.” He said. “I… I don’t remember what he does. Only after, when someone tells me, or… when I see it for myself.” There was another pause. “Garrett… he knows, if you’re wondering. And Varric. But they’re the only ones.”

“Garrett knows?”

_Of course he does._

_Anders… trusts Garrett. **Likes** him. Of course he’d tell him._

It made sense, but something about it still hurt, still felt slightly like betrayal, and he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“When he first came to me, it was because he needed the maps for the tunnels, remember?” Carver nodded. “I asked a favor in return. My… Karl, my…” he tried to get the words out, “he was special to me, let’s just put it that way. He asked for my help, said he needed me, so we went but when we got there, he… was already tranquil. Justice came out, and Garrett was there. That’s the only reason he knows, Carver. I… lost control in front of him, and Varric too.” He sighed. “Lucikly they’re both good enough not to… hate me for it, or turn me in. I wouldn’t blame them if they did.”

“They’d never do that.” Carver said instantly. “I mean, what you do when you’re… him, it’s not like you’re choosing to do it.”

“But it’s still getting done, Carver.” Anders protested, but he mostly just sounded resigned. “And _I_ made it possible, by agreeing to accept him. If I had just…” He sighed. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Carver debated between pushing farther, and going back to the topic. He sighed, and then asked, “With your… with Karl, what happened?” He asked. For a split second Anders flinched, and he slightly regretted his decision, but Anders started talking before he could say never mind.

“Once the fight was over, he went away again. Justice, I mean. Templars had ambushed us… But the bit of the fade that he’d brought with him was just enough to restore Karl’s mind for a minute, just one.”

“What’d he say?” Carver asked, voice quiet. There was a very long pause, and Carver began to doubt Anders would even respond. But then he just sighed, and again his hand tightened against Carver’s.

“He asked me to kill him.” His voice was quiet, and a wave of numbness washed over the Hawke – he’d suspected, but to _hear_ it…

“And did you?” His voice was just as soft as Anders’s had been.

“If I were going to be made tranquil,” Andres said, finally looking at him for the first time since he’d sat up, “I’d wish for a friend merciful enough to kill me. As he said, ‘I’d rather die a mage, and not a Templar puppet’.” There were tears in his honey-gold eyes, and he was paler than usual, and looked… _exhausted_.

Broken.

Carver had never realized how much the mage had had to deal with. And for the first time, he thought that maybe there was someone who knew just what it was like to suffer like he had every day since he was a kid, who _understood_ that suffering even better than Carver himself did. And it wasn’t fair, not for either of them. Sure, Anders was insufferably obsessed with freeing mages, and refused to acknowledge that magic was dangerous, but he was also compassionate to a fault. He hadn’t wanted all of this.

And neither had Carver.

_Maker save us both._

“I’m sorry.” Carver said. “Anders, I’m… I’m sorry.”

Anders blinked.

“It’s my own fault.” The mage replied. “I let him in.”

“Yes.” Carver agreed, and for a second Anders just stared at him.

Then his face fell, and gently the hand slipped out of Carver’s grasp.

“But…” Carver continued, grabbing it again and sealing Anders in an unbreakable gaze, “everything after that is not your fault. What he does, you don’t control that. And you don’t exploit it. You hate it, and that’s what makes it okay. Not what he does, but that he does it through you. It’s not your choice, Anders.”

“What if it is?” Anders replied. “What if it is my choice, and I’m just blaming him so I can find some way to forgive myself? I’ve always hated Templars. I _hate_ the circles. The mages need to be freed, Carver, even if you don’t agree with me.”

“Anders.” Carver said, rolling his eyes. “Maker, Anders, you’re a _healer._ ”

The mage stared back at him, uncomprehending.

“Why would someone who spends all his time saving others, who _hurts_ so much when he looses someone, go out and destroy people?” Carver shook his head. “No. No, it’s not you. It’s him. Perhaps he’s influenced by what you feel, but that… _vengeance,_ that’s _not you._ ”

He didn’t think he’d ever been so sure of anything in his life, and he couldn’t tell if that was really, _really_ sad, or if it just proved how ridiculous this entire thing was.

“It might be, Carver.” Anders sighed, sounding so _broken._ He hated it.

“I don’t believe it.”

“Carver-“

“I don’t.” Carver shrugged. “And you won’t ever get me to. I know you, Anders, I’m not as stupid as people seem to think I am, and I’m _not_ a child.” He dared him to argue.

Anders stared at him, and then, for a second, broke into a small smile. It was sad, but it was there, and the mage chuckled.

“No, you most certainly are not that.” He agreed.

There was a pause, and _then_ Carver flushed. The tension gone, his words said, and suddenly he realized _he was holding Anders’s hand,_ and he’d practically just _pep-talked the mage_ and _Maker WHAT am I doing…_

His face was bright red, and, noticing, Anders’s small chuckle grew until it was a laugh, and with one final squeeze, he let go.

Carver tried not to notice how his fingers trailed against the inside of his wrist as he did so, and ignored the tingling and somewhat empty feeling that came after.

“You’re certainly something, Carver Hawke.” Anders murmured, crossing his arms loosely over his bent knees and looking at him with that same small smile. There was something in those honey gold eyes, but Carver couldn’t tell what it was, and honestly, he was too tired to figure it out. Instead he just sighed.

Then he frowned.

“You know, I _did_ have a reason for coming here, and it certainly was not all this.” He said. Anders raised an eyebrow.

“Really, now.”

“Yes.” Carver turned, and thrust his wrist forwards. “Get this Maker forsaken thing off of me before I snap it apart myself.”

Anders stared at him a moment.

Then he burst out laughing. Despite everything, despite Justice and the girl, and Templars and mages, despite everything weighing on him, he just sat there and _laughed._

Because of Carver Hawke’s glaring face, and because of his pink cat cast.

“I’m serious!” The boy muttered, flushing, not entirely certain what was so amusing. “It’s been a pain in the ass since you put it on, and it’s _pink_ for Andraste’s sake, and it’s too damn hot and impossible to clean!”

“Yes, Carver, it’s a _cast_ , they’re not supposed to be easy to deal with.” Anders replied, still grinning. “And may I just say, Mr. Fluffles looks rather excited to be back here. Are you _sure_ you want to-“

“I swear on the Maker, Anders.” Carver cut him off with a glare. _”On the Maker._ And I don’t do that often.”

Anders just kept laughing.

“I don’t even know why I try.” Carver muttered, and struggled to get to his feet.

“Be careful!” Anders chided him, attempting to calm himself down enough to focus on his patient but failing miserably. Amused chuckles kept hiccupping out of him, he just couldn’t help it. “Look, I can’t take it off if it’s not feeling any better, anyways.”

“It is.” Carver replied, but he blushed, which told Anders he was lying.

“Right.” The mage rolled his eyes. “I don’t suppose you’d consider wearing it for another-“

_”NO.”_

“Right, that’s what I thought.” Anders sighed. “Maker, Carver, you’re a mess.”

“You’re one to talk.” The boy glared, and Anders shrugged.

“You’re probably not wrong.” He agreed. Then, “Come on, over this way. Let’s take a look at it, shall we?”

Twenty minutes later, the cast was gone, replaced by a black brace that could slide on and off easily. Anders wouldn’t let him leave without it, and warned him that if he didn’t wear it and his wrist got even worse, they’d have to put another cast on it, and Carver had, of course, rolled his eyes and ‘whatever’ed him, to which Anders had threatened to tell Garrett again, and again Carver had told him he was an asshole blackmailing mage, and this time Anders heard him loud and clear, and still just ended up laughing at him. Then he’d jumped off the table, and…

Then they just stood there, staring at each other.

“I should probably get home.” Carver said. “I’ve been gone all day.”

“I know. I was there.” Anders smirked, but after getting an eye roll and a glare from Carver, sighed. “You’re probably right. It’s getting late.”

There was a pause, and Carver knew it should have been easy, just turn and walk towards the door, but for some reason it _wasn’t_ , and it sort of felt like his feet were glued to the floor. Anders’s expression had begun to fade back into the haunted one from before, and Carver just _knew_ that as soon as he left the mage would stop laughing, would revert back to the guilty state he’d been in when he’d woken up, and he didn’t want to let that happen, but he knew he couldn’t stay, at least not without letting his family know, and anyways, it would be weird if he stayed, and it’s not like it would _help_ if he stayed, and honestly he wasn’t even sure why he felt like he _should_ stay.

He wasn’t Garrett, after all. Helping people wasn’t his thing. And Anders probably didn’t want him around anyways.

He’d want Garrett. But Garrett wouldn’t come.

Well, he’d _come._ If he knew Anders was in trouble he’d go in an instant, and be at his side, and comfort him, and help him, and stay all night until he was sure Anders would be okay again. But he would never _come_ the way Anders wanted, come ready to love him and _be_ with him, not like that. Carver knew that, and he knew Anders knew that, although he could still see the spark of hope whenever his brother said the mage’s name, and could see it die just as fast when he knew that, just like usual, there was nothing special about it.

He wasn’t sure if Garrett coming would help, or make everything worse, at this point. But he also didn’t want Anders to be alone, not yet, when he was still… feeling upset by all that’d happened before. And… he knew he couldn’t stay.

He couldn’t.

So he sighed, and then turned to the mage and muttered a quick, “Thanks. For… you know.” He guested weakly at his wrist, and Anders nodded.

“It’s what I do.” He replied with another little smirk.

He knew Anders was faking it, the smile. Probably because he wasn’t comfortable enough with Carver to let his real emotions show. Him being there was just making it worse.

_I should go._

“Well… I’ll. See you later.” He said, and he knew he was blushing but, unfortunately, it was not something he could just turn off (as much as he wished he could).

Was it just him, or did Anders’s face fall slightly when he said that, though?

“Oh… yeah. Bye, Carver.” The mage replied. _Why does he look so sad?_

Carver sighed, and then walked over to him. _The door is the other way._ He told himself, but, being the genius he was, he ignored himself and kept right on going towards the mage instead.

“You’re ridiculous.” He muttered, not entirely which one of them he was talking to.

Then he grabbed Anders, and pulled him into a hug.

For a second, Anders was stiff with surprise.

Then he sighed, and his arms folded around Carver’s waist, and his head dropped against his shoulder, and the mage’s breath was warm on his neck, and _Maker_ why was it so comfortable? He knew it was weird, to people hugging each other like that, that weren’t _together_ , or… or even close friends, really, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care, and Anders didn’t seem to mind, so whatever. _It’s fine._

_This is fine._

It seemed to last a while, probably longer than a usual hug would, but if they were going to go for weirdly close hugs they might as well make them for a weirdly long time, and besides…

It was warm, and he didn’t get warm hugs from anyone, these days.

Still, eventually he did have to pull away, and when he did, Anders looked up at him. He looked better than he had before. Still sad, but not quite _as_ sad.

 _Good._ Carver nodded to himself.

“I’ll see you.” He promised. Anders didn’t say anything, but smiled and nodded, stepping back. Finally Carver turned away and walked to the door, but as he opened it, a voice said, “Carver?”

He turned, and saw Anders, leaning against the table, giving a little wave. “Thanks.” The mage said, sincerity and… something else, that same something that’d been in his eyes before, written all over his face.

Carver flushed.

“You’re welcome.” He muttered.

And then the door closed behind him, and, ignoring the tightness in his chest, he started the long walk home.

 

“Garrett.” The door shut behind him heavily, and his brother jumped, looking up from his desk.

“Carver?” the mage frowned, concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“No.” Carver glared.

_I can’t believe I’m doing this._

“What’s wrong?” Garrett stood quickly, dropping the letter he’d been reading on the table.

“I know about Justice.” Carver said flatly, and watched as his brother paled a few shades. He nodded in satisfaction.

“Anders…”

“There was a girl. A mage. She ran from the circle, and some Templars…” Carver didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. “I found her, but she didn’t make it.”

“And Justice came out.” Garrett finished. “Oh, Anders.” He sighed regretfully. “Is… he alright?” He asked, concern still lingering.

Carver glared at him. He knew he didn’t have much of a reason to glare, but he just… did. Because all that concern was purely platonic, and Anders deserved so much more than his idiotic brother, but somehow that’s whom he’d fallen for, and Garrett _didn’t even notice._

_It’s so fucking stupid._

“What?” Garrett got that look on his face again, the confused _what did I do this time_ face that he always got whenever Carver looked at him, and it only made him glare harder.

 _”No,_ he’s not fucking okay.” Carver snapped. “He feels guilty about it and is probably wallowing in self pity and hatred as we speak, so get your ass over there and _help.”_

“Wh-“ Garrett started, but before he could finished, Carver was gone, slamming the door again as he went.

Garrett stared after his little brother, thoroughly confused. Still, he knew going after him would only make him angrier, and besides, he _was_ worried about Anders. So, sighing, he slipped his boots on and grabbed his staff, and then turned the light out and left the house, humming an off-key melody as he went.

The door to Carver’s room clicked closed, and he leaned against it, breathing a sigh of relief. _Garrett will keep him from doing something stupid._ He thought. _It’ll be fine._

And he knew that. But the tense knot in his stomach refused to untie.

He chose, just like everything else, to ignore it.

_Garrett’s going._

_He’s going to be fine._


	11. In which The Boys go on an Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, i'm so sorry i missed posting last week. i was out of town visiting family for the fourth of july, so i didn't get the chance! 
> 
> as such i've decided to post 2 chapters this week~
> 
> i'm still on vacation which is why this is getting out so late tonight, so i apologize for that to.. you can thank Bookishtomato for reminding me before midnight hit! 
> 
> take these dorks, and all the happy endings, hope you enjoy!

“Oh, well hello there.”

Carver frowned, and then turned around, only to see Anders standing behind him with his staff across his shoulders. He grunted.

“Didn’t know _you_ were coming.” He said, turning away again to finish strapping on his sword (but mostly to hide the stupid surprised blush that sprang to his face).

“Come on, Carv, don’t act like you’re not excited.” Anders teased, and Carver rolled his eyes.

“You wish, Magey.” He muttered.

“Aw, you don’t like me, Carver?” The mage asked, feigning offence. To his left, Carver heard Bethany giggle and Garrett sigh. He flushed slightly.

Only slightly.

“No. I don’t like you.” He replied, voice flat. “Not one bit.”

“Aw, that’s unfortunate.” The mage shook his head. “Hating someone just because they’re a mage is such a _shameful_ thing.” He snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye at Fenris, and Carver grunted, rolling his eyes dramatically. The elf, for his part, just sent Anders a rather unamused glare and Garrett once again sighed.

“I don’t hate you because you’re a mage.” Carver said, shrugging, and then sent Anders a _look_ over his shoulder. “I hate you because you won’t _shut up_ about it.” The mage laughed.

“Hey!” he said in protest. “I talk about perfectly _reasonable_ concerns, and you can’t get onto me for not doing something about it, so there.” Carver scoffed.

“Sure, sure.” He replied. “Oppression this, Templars that. I’d heard enough of _that_ long before you came along.”

“Well perhaps it was time you put some thought into it.” Anders raised an eyebrow.

“Please, don’t poison the boy’s mind with your opinions.” Fenris growled, and Carver turned to glare at him.

“I’m not a ‘boy’.” He muttered.

“And what are you then?” The elf raised his eyebrows. “A ‘man’?”

“Can’t you three just get along?” Garrett groaned. “Please?”

“Sure you don’t want me to come too, Garbear?” Bethany asked from the side, still amused and laughing. Carver sent her a little glare – Garrett shook his head.

“Sorry, Bethy, I can’t take that many people. The Viscount was very insistent it’d be a small group – taking this many is already probably pushing it.” He apologized.

“Not all of us are _people._ ” Fenris muttered. “There’s you, and me, and an abomination, and a child. Maker knows we don’t need yet _another_ mage with us, although it’d be nice to travel with someone who has _sense_ for once.”

“I’m not a _child._ ” Carver snapped, anger flaring.

“Maker, why don’t you just shout it to the world?” Anders muttered.

“You _are_ an abomination.” Fenris spat at him. Carver frowned.

He’d never thought of Anders as an abomination. He had a spirit inside him, not a Demon… right?

It’d been about a week since he’d seen heads or tails of Anders, but that might have maybe been because he was avoiding him. Not specifically or anything, but he just didn’t make any special visits down to the clinic. Not that he had a reason to, so technically it wasn’t avoiding, it was just… it would have been unreasonable for him to go, after all, and he didn’t want to waste he mage’s time, and…

So what if he got a little red faced when he thought about the last time he saw him? And so _what_ if he was maybe a little scared that sending Garrett hadn’t been the best idea, and that Anders would have been mad at him, and so he was avoiding him because he didn’t want to deal with that? _So what if he was avoiding the mage,_ it wasn’t like he was obligated to go see him anyways… and, honestly, if Anders had wanted to see him he could have just stopped by the house, so it was only logical to assume that Anders _hadn’t_ wanted to see him and…

“Maker.” He cursed to himself.

“Wow, I don’t think enough people heard the first time.” Anders replied to the elf angrily, either ignoring Carver or not hearing him (and honestly, he wasn’t sure which was better).

“Do you see yourself as harmless, then?” Fenris asked mockingly, and, off on the side, Garrett sighed. “An abomination who would never hurt someone?”

“Like ripping someone’s heart out of his chest?” Anders countered, and yeah, okay, he had a point, because that was pretty fucking creepy and evil-looking.

“I do that at the behest of no _demon.”_ Fenris replied flatly. Anders nodded.

“Ah, so then we agree it doesn’t take a demon for someone to be a vicious killer? Good.” He said, grinning in triumph. Fenris growled and started glowing faintly.

“Fenris, Anders, just… don’t. Please.” Garrett said. Fenris glared at Anders, (and Anders at Fenris) for another fifteen seconds, the air tense. Then the elf scowled and looked away, his markings fading back to white.

And no matter what anybody said, the glowing tattoos were still the creepiest things Carver had ever seen. Even more creepy than possessed Anders…

He shook his head, refusing to think about _that day_ anymore.

“Are going to go or not?” he demanded instead.

“Yes.” His brother replied with a relieved nod. “Good idea… Let’s. Just… Let’s go.”

“Be safe! Have fun! Set bad guys on fire and sever their heads!” Bethany called from behind them; Carver rolled his eyes and groaned; Garrett laughed, as did Anders. Fenris just sent her a raised eyebrow, and she grinned at him, waving. “Or you know, rip out their bodily organs. Same difference.” That pulled a smirk out of the elf.

Carver stared. Were Bethy and Fenris… _friends?_

“Where exactly _are_ we going?” Anders asked. Hawke sighed.

“To the coast.” Hawke replied. “We need to find Seamus before the Winters do – I don’t trust them not to hurt him.” he turned over his shoulder and waved at Bethany. “See you later, Bethy. Tell mother we might be late.”

“Will do. Bye, Garebear, bye Carv.” She waved back, and then slipped inside. Carver sighed, and then turned to see Garrett looking at the three of them with something like apprehension on his face.

“Right.” His brother said. “Try not to kill each other while we travel, okay?” They started heading towards the exit of Lowtown.

“Explain to me again why we had to bring the mage?” Fenris sighed, walking to stand next to Garrett. Carver frowned.

“Because Seamus might be hurt, and because Anders is my friend.” Garrett replied, rolling his eyes. Carver looked at Anders, and just barely managed to catch the pained expression before it slipped away once again.

“Yeah, see?” Anders said, covering easily. Why was it that only Carver noticed it when Anders was hurt? “My magic is _helpful._ Beneficial, even. I can _save_ people. Now what can you do?”

 _”I_ am not an abomination.” Fenris shot back.

“Say it a little louder.” Anders laughed, but it wasn’t an amused laugh. “I dare you.”

“Oh, could you both just shut up?” Carver grunted. “I don’t want to listen to your bickering all the way there.”

“Like you’re much better.” Anders rolled his eyes, but there was a teasing smirk on his face. Carver frowned at him.

“You two have the _same exact_ argument every time you see each other.” Carver replied. “Doesn’t it get a little old? You’re like two year olds squabbling over toys!”

“If there’s anyone who’s a child here, it would be you.” Fenris replied, and Carver glared at him, anger spiking again.

“Oh, lay of it.” Anders spoke before he could. “Carver isn’t any less of an adult than _you_ are.” He rolled his eyes at the elf. Carver wasn’t sure whether to be offended or complimented. “And you’re, what, five years older than he is, give or take a few?”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” Garrett cut them off, shaking his head. “Come on, can’t you just get along?”

The three of them looked at each other.

“No.” they chorused.

Garrett groaned.

“I should have brought Bethany after all.” He muttered. Anders grinned, Fenris sighed, Carver glared.

They kept walking.

A few hours of arguing later, they were nearing the farthest edge of the west coast and there still was no sign of Seamus. Garrett was getting more and more restless, and Carver was going to punch Anders in the face if he complained about his feet hurting one more time, and Fenris just kept sighing moodily and staring at the world around him with narrowed eyes. It was hot and all of them were sweating beneath their various vestments, but Garrett wouldn’t let them remove any armor in case they got into trouble (which at this point Carver was seriously beginning to doubt.)

But then Fenris froze, head turning to the left, and Anders, being unprepared as he was, ran straight into him, tearing his robes on the sharp shoulder spikes.

“Dammit!” he cursed, leaping backwards. “Why did you-“ But he was cut off by a sharp hiss from Fenris and Garrett’s hurried shushing, flapping his hands awkwardly in the air with urgency in his eyes. Carver frowned, and listened intently.

Then he heard it too, the sounds of fighting coming from somewhere ahead of them, on the other side of the hill to their left. They all shared a glance, Anders hearing it too, and then Garrett set off running towards the noise.

 _”Garrett, wait!”_ Anders hissed, but the mage was already out of reach, Fenris right at his heels. “Maker, they’re both _idiots.”_ Anders cursed.

“You’re telling me.” Carver muttered, and together the two of them trotted off after their companions.

Just before they turned the corner, there was one loud, pained cry, and an almost simultaneous sound of someone screaming, _“No!”_ , as well as a vile laugh.

When they got there, it was too late.

There was a dark-haired boy on his knees, face contorted in pain as he bent over the body of a dead Qunari man, the leader of the Winters standing triumphantly over both of them. Garrett had frozen just behind the hill, face pale with shock. Fenris was next to him, a hand on his shoulder, but for once Carver didn’t make note of it, too busy grabbing Ander’s arm to keep him from darting around the corner past them. The mage’s eyes were blazing with fury, fist balled at his sides.

“Anders.” Carver hissed, stopped him. _”Don’t be an idiot,_ you’re no better than my brother!” Anders looked at him hopelessly for a moment, then gritted his teeth and nodded. Still, his eyes remained trained on the fallen Qunari, obviously wishing he could help him.

“And the world’s rid of one more Qunari.” The Winters’ woman chuckled, nudging the warrior’s limp arm with her boot. Seamus’s mouth was still open – he must have been the one who screamed – but there was no longer sound coming out. She sneered at him, and then turned over her shoulder to her men. “Call the men back… we’ve got an appointment with the Viscount.” She looked back to the boy. “Isn’t that _right,_ Seamus?”

 _So that’s Seamus._ Carver looked him up and down. He was about Carver’s age, with black hair and a pale complexion, although how much of it was from watching someone get stabbed and not just his natural skin tone was hard to tell.

“Ashaad…” He finally spoke, a tear sliding own his face. “You… you killed him.” He looked up at the woman, expression of agony shifting to one of pure fury. “You vashedan _bitch!”_

Carver blinked in surprise, not expecting to hear the Qunari langue come out of the young boy, or such pain in his voice. He frowned, and then suddenly, he understood.

 _”Maker._ He cursed. Garrett and Fenris turned to look at him, but Anders had apparently reached the same conclusion he had.

“He loved him.” Anders said, voice dark. Garrett’s mouth opened, and then closed, and then he seemed to accept it and his face fell even farther, if that was possible. Meanwhile Fenris just sighed and turned back to the scene before them, but Carver _knew_ he didn’t imagine the quick squeeze the elf gave Garrett’s shoulder.

“Is that one of their words?” the woman laughed. “See, that’s why you need to be dragged home. You’re playing too nice with those _things_.” She paused, and then an evil grin split her face. “I bet you’ve gone even _farther_ that than, haven’t you, brat?”

Finally Anders had enough, and, pulling his arm away from Carver’s grip (he hadn’t realized he was still touching the mage until then) he stalked into the clearing.

“Anders!” He said in exasperation, following him out. Garrett was right at his heels, and Fenris came too, after sighing heavily. Carver ignored them in lieu of catching up to the mage, a split second worry that Justice might surface shooting through him. “Anders, wait.” He said, reaching to grab his arm again, and this time is brother helped, latching on to the other side, stopping his friend. The brothers’ gazes met over his head, and Carver could _see_ the conflict in Garrett’s features. He sighed, and then nodded.

“Anders, wait here.” Garrett said gently. “Let me deal with her. We’ll need you in a second, okay?” Anders glared at him, but nodded. Carver stayed back while his brother and the elf kept going – by now they’d caught the attention of the others in the clearing, and all around them the Winters’s warriors had drawn their weapons. Their leader just stood there with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed.

“Leave him alone.” Garrett said, walking up to her. There was a certain sharpness in his voice that Carver rarely ever heard, and his eyes widened slightly.

“Competition?” the woman smirked, looking him up and down. “Well, you’re too late. The Winters…” she paused, and then grinned. _”I_ have already claimed him.”

“He’s not a piece of property to be _claimed._ ” Anders growled.

“If…” Seamus started talking, voice shaking but stance firm. “If I must go back, Serah, then so be it, but I will _not_ see these murderers rewarded.” The fire in his eyes burned just as bright as before, and after a pause, Garrett nodded.

The woman was not pleased by this, however, and her hand darted to her weapon.

“Stupid shit.” She cursed. “I’ll cut your tongue out and charge extra for bringing you back quiet!” She drew her swords just as Garrett reached for his staff. Fenris’s weapon was already in his hands, and Carver drew his own with no small amount of relief.

He was mad, just like the others, although he was a bit better about not acting on that anger (or at least he liked to think so), but the idea of fighting the woman was growing more appealing by the second.

“And as for you, I could do for some entertainment while I wait for reinforcements.” She said, glaring at Garrett.

And then she leapt.

Her blade was blocked by Fenris’s, jumping in at the same time as Garrett darted backwards – it was obviously something they’d done before, and Carver admired it for a second, but then was distracted by the three men charging him and Anders.

“Ready?” the mage asked.

“Do you need to ask?” Carver replied.

He heard Anders chuckle a second before the clang of metal hitting metal broke through the air once more, and suddenly he was fighting two of the three men, the third occupied with Anders, and he let his instincts take over.

If there was anything he’d learned from his father, it was how to swordfight. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the two men were at his feet, blood pooling beneath them.

“Carver!” He heard someone call his name, and looked over to see Anders rushing towards the fallen Qunari. “Come on!”

Carver growled in exasperation and followed him, wishing the mage would stop just running off on his own. _Besides, it’s likely he’s already dead!_ He thought. Still, that didn’t stop the mage from crouching down on the ground, hands already glowing a light green color.

Carver sighed and turned back, in just enough time to block an incoming strike from another assailant he hadn’t seen before.

“Damn.” He cursed as the attacker’s blade nicked his shoulder when he shoved it aside, sinking his sword into the man’s chest as he did so. It stung, but wasn’t anything major.

He looked over to check on Garrett only to see he and Fenris were not only fighting the woman but five of her lackeys as well, and yet the two of them were still holding their own. What’s more, they were _winning._ Seamus had been shoved back to the edge of the clearing, and for a moment Carver wondered why the boy didn’t just run, but was distracted by a bright flash to his left.

The scorched remains of what had been the woman were all that greeted his eyes when he looked back.

“Damn.” He said again, gritting his teeth and looking away. His eyes met Garrett’s, and his brother’s face was hard as stone. Carver winced internally.

He knew how much Garrett hated killing people, even if they did deserve it, like the Winters’ woman had. He was no fan of it either, but it had never bothered him as much as it did Garrett. Honestly, he though perhaps Bethany was the easiest killer of them all, mostly because she was best able to put logic behind it that balanced out the guilt, but she was also the last one to draw a sword in a fight, pushing for diplomacy until the last second. If she killed someone, it was because she had no other choice.

“Oh Andraste, I’ve never seen so many corpses, so much blood!” Seamus said shakily, unable to tear his eyes away from the crispy fried warriors below him.

“You’re doing fine.” Garrett replied gently. “We’ll get through this. Just hold on a little longer, okay?” Seamus began to nod, but then he caught sight of Anders, crouching over his friend, and instead just started to rush over.

“What’s he doing?” he demanded. “Get away from him!”

“Hush, don’t distract him.” Carver snapped, stepping in front of him. “He’s trying to _heal_ him, alright?”

Seamus blinked.

“H…heal him?” He asked, hope almost daring to spark on his face. “But… I saw her k…ill him. I watched her _stab_ him, I was… standing right next to him. I should have done something…” he paused, and Carver didn’t know how to respond, looking at his brother over the boy’s shoulder, but Garrett just shrugged helplessly.

 _Thanks, Gare._ Carver glared. _That’s helpful of you._

“Ashaad…” Seamus started talking again, saving him from having to fill the silence himself. “He never lied, never coddled. You were worth his time, or you weren’t.” he paused again, and then gritted his teeth, turning to look at Fenris and Garrett. His voice was hard. “They are not the brutes that others claim they are.”

“I know.” Garrett replied. “I believe you.”

“Do you?” Fenris muttered, but Garrett ignored him.

“I think…” Anders spoke suddenly, and all four of them whipped around. Anders’s eyes were open again, but he looked older than he had before, and exhausted, shoulders sagging. “I think that should be enough.”

“What?” Seamus gasped, pushing past Carver to crouch at Ashaad’s side. “Is he alive?”

“Barely.” Anders murmured, and Carver frowned. His voice was gravel-y, like talking took an immense amount of effort. “But it… it should be enough for now.”

“Anders, are you alright?” Garrett asked, crouching down at his side. Anders started to reply, but instead just shook his head, wobbling slightly. Carver stepped forwards, ready to go to the mage’s side, but…

Then he paused. Maker, he wasn’t _worried_ , was he?

More like, he didn’t want to have to be the one to carry Anders back if he passed out. Yeah. That was it…

“You said he was alive?” Seamus asked desperately, either unaware of or not caring about Anders’s state of being. The mage nodded.

“Give him a second… should wake up.” He replied. “Hey, Carver, do you have the water still?” He asked, and Carver nodded, ignoring the oddly pleased sensation that came when Anders asked for _him_ and not _Garrett_. He bent down on the Mage’s other side and handed him his water canteen, and then watched as he proceeded to cut its contents in half with one swallow. He frowned, concern growing.

“What the hell did you _do?_ He asked, and Anders let out a rueful chuckle.

“I brought a very large male Qunari back from the brink of death.” He said nonchalantly, or at least as nonchalantly as a person who was about to pass out could. “That takes no small amount of energy, though, and as such I’m rather… tired.” Carver snorted.

“Tired? You look like a zombie.”

“Thanks.” Anders rolled his eyes. “You know how much I love being complimented for my good looks, Carv.”

“Ashaad?” They both looked over to see the large Qunari’s eyes blinking open, Seamus’s face a mask of disbelief and hope. “It’s me, Seamus. How are you feeling?”

“I…” the man started, but his voice broke and he stopped.

“Don’t try to talk too much yet.” Anders advised with a sigh. “You’re still in pretty bad shape.”

“How am I alive?” The Qunari asked weakly, although he didn’t sound pleased about it. “I… should not be.”

“Let’s just say you got lucky.” Anders replied. The Qunari’s head shifted against the ground to look at him, but his horns prevented much movement.

“I would not say that.” Ashaad said.

“Look, we’ll figure this out, alright?” Seamus cut him off, taking his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I was not strong… enough to fight.” The Qunari said. “Then I am not worthy enough to live.”

“That’s not true!” Seamus protested. “You were just protecting me… It’s _I_ who am not strong enough to fight. You were brave, just like the Qun requires.” He sounded so sure of himself, and when the Qunari turned back to him, he looked slightly less displeased than he had before, and a bit more conflicted.

“A warrior is judged by his scars.” He said. Seamus nodded.

“Yes, and now you’ve got one to show all over the place.” He replied. Ashaad chuckled, and then winced, stopping almost as soon as he started.

“Boasting is against the Qun, Seamus.” He said, but his voice was gentle. Seamus winced.

“You’re right.”

“It is fine. You’re still learning.” Ashaad replied with another small chuckle. Carver watched this exchange with something like apprehension on his face, not quite sure what either of them were talking about or why the large horned man was _displeased_ with being alive. The large man again turned to Anders, and Carver shifted uncertainly, but the Qunari just sighed. “You meant well. I must thank you.” He said.

“Sure thing.” Anders said. “I’m…” Carver looked at him in alarm – his voice was airy and high-pitched, and his face was white as a sheet. “I’ll just…”

And then he fell sideways, landing rather solidly against Carver’s shoulder.

“Anders!” He said in surprise, and Garrett echoed the name a moment later, worry in his voice. Fenris, still standing a ways away from them, just sighed and shook his head.

“Mages.” He muttered, and for once Carver sort of had to agree with the elf. He shifted the mage’s limp body around until he was resting in his lap instead of against his shoulder – the mage had a rather boney head – and then frowned.

Anders looked completely different when he was asleep.

“What do we do now?” Seamus asked. “With Ashaad like this, it’s not like he can travel far.”

And everyone looked at Garrett. Everyone except Carver, that is, and he hated the small flash of jealously that tingled along his spine. Of course everyone would assume Garrett had an answer. Why wouldn’t he?

Except this time Garrett didn’t seem to know what to say. Carver sighed.

“We passed a cave a while back.” he said, and everyone almost seemed to jump in surprise, not expecting to hear his voice. “If we clean it out, then he can rest there until Anders can make it back to check on him. It’s out of the way of the main path, and in the shade so it won’t be too hot.”

Everyone stared at him.

“What?” He asked indignantly.

“I will do it.” Ashaad was the first to speak, and that seemed to break the suspense, as then both Garrett and Fenris looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

“We’ll go make sure it’s safe.” Garrett said, standing. Then he hesitated, turning back to Carver. “You’ll be alright here?”

Carver glared at him, clenching his teeth. Fenris rolled his eyes and grabbed Garrett’s shoulder.

“He’ll be _fine,_ let’s just get this over with.” The elf muttered, and then let go and started to walk down the path. Garrett hesitated a moment longer, and then sighed in resignation and followed him. There was a pause, and then Seamus said, “You friend… is he going to be alright?” Carver looked down at Anders, and then shrugged.

“He’s alright.” He replied. “Stupid, but alright. He’ll wake up later, trust me.” Seamus frowned for a moment, and then nodded.

“I’m glad to hear that, then.”

“Your friend… he is special to you.” Ashaad spoke, and Carver jumped, almost forgetting the Qunari was awake.

“What?” He asked, flushing. “You mean Anders?”

The two of them just stared at him.

“No!” He protested. “Why would you say that? He’s…! No!” Carver was flushed bright red, and flustered as he’d ever been. _Anders, special to me?_ He thought, hardly daring to believe it. _As if! Stupid fucking mage… that’s just…!_

It was _incomprehensible_ , is what it was.

“You can lie to us, but you should not lie to yourself.” Ashaad said in the same deep, gravel voice as before. “The wise man listens when his heart tells him something.”

“You’re wrong.” Carver shook his head. “What even gave you that idea? He’s just my brother’s friend…”

He looked down and realized his hand was in Anders’s hair. Flushing again, he pulled it away as if burned by fire, and Ashaad let out another quiet chuckle.

“He fell towards you, not your brother.” The Qunari commented. “That should tell you something, should it not?”

“He just passed out.” Carver said, now firmly in denial. “It’s not like he _chose_ to fall on me.”

 _And even if he did,_ Carver thought, a slightly angry twinge tickling his spine, _it was because he didn’t want to fall on Garrett knowing that he’d never be there to catch him._

_At least not the way he wants._

He frowned, crossed his arms, and then looked away. His embarrassment was all but gone now, replaced by an oddly cold sensation, and he was almost tempted to shove Anders out of his lap just to prove his point.

He didn’t get the chance, however, because a moment later Garrett and Fenris walked back around the corner, weapons re-sheathed.

“It should be alright now.” Garrett said, and Carver nodded, flushing slightly once more as he tried not to think about Seamus and Ashaad’s comments, especially now that Garrett was standing right in front of him. Anders’s head in his lap felt oddly heavy, like it was crushing him.

“Right, well, if you’ll help me get up, I can-“ he started, but Garrett shook his head.

“We’ve got it. Just… take care of Anders, alright?” he said, voice tinged with worry, and Carver gritted his teeth.

_Sometimes I hate him._

“Fine.”

_Because he doesn’t see how stupid he is._

He watched silently as the three men struggled to get Ashaad to his feet, and then helped him, limping and wincing but refusing to cry out, to the cave.

He looked down at Anders, asleep against his legs still, and, after a second of hesitation…

He put his hand back where it’d been before, stroking softly.

“Maker.” He cursed. _I feel bad for him._

_That’s all this is._

_Because my brother is an idiot, and I know what it’s like._

_I’m sympathetic. I GET it._

He sighed, the golden strands soft beneath his fingers.

_That’s it._

Anders looked… happier, actually, when he was asleep, which was odd, because he was _usually_ smiling in some form or another when awake (unless of course he was ranting about something or getting ready to go fight a band of murderers). Somehow, though, his features seemed so much more relaxed, so much more unguarded than usual, and it was…

Carver sighed, not sure how to finish the thought.

When his brother returned, Seamus was trailing behind and Fenris came at the end, looking altogether rather bored with everything. Seamus looked guilty, glancing behind him occasionally, but Carver had to assume that the angry brooding elf face was enough to keep him walking forwards.

When Seamus turned around, his eyes met Carvers and then flicked down meaningfully at his hand, still stroking through the end of Anders’s pony tail, and he flushed bright red.

He didn’t pull away, though. The kid could think what he wanted; he didn’t know anything. After all, Carver obviously didn’t care what people thought about him, and he never would.

“So what now?” Fenris asked with a resigned sigh.

“Take me to my father, and I will try again to make him see.” Seamus replied. “They _aren’t_ what people say. We don’t have to fight them… I _have_ to convince him of that.”

“I meant with the _Mage._ ” Fenris growled, nodding at Anders, and Seamus blinked.

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

Garrett sighed.

“We’ll just have to carry him back.” he said. “It’s not like we have a choice. We’re mostly out of water, and it’s getting dark outside. We should have been back a while ago, I’m sure Bethany is already worrying.”

Carver frowned. _So NOW he cares about being home on time?_ He thought. _He never seemed to before._

“He’s shorter than both of us, but not by much.” Carver said. “How exactly do you plan on getting him back?”

Garrett hesitated, and Carver sighed.

“Alright, alright, _fine._ Help me get him up.” His brother sighed in relief, and together (with some help from both Seamus and a rather reluctant Fenris) they managed to get him in a sort of piggy-back type slump on Carver’s back. He had to lean forwards so the mage wouldn’t flop off the back, and his arms bounced awkwardly over his shoulders, and the dead weight of a full grown man above him was certainly no light feather, but it would work. Garrett promised that they’d switch when he got tired, but that for now he needed to be able to navigate because he knew the coast best, and Carver couldn’t really find an argument for that.

Besides, part of him… didn’t exactly want Garrett carrying Anders. Because Garrett didn’t _deserve_ Anders, and because he knew that if Anders woke up pressed that tight against his brother only to know that it would still _never_ happen, it would…

He shook his head. None of his business, not his problem.

“Let’s just get this over with.” He muttered, and, with a nod, Garrett started walking, Seamus at his back and Fenris at his side.

Carver sighed and followed after them, Anders gentle breaths against his neck making him flush all the way home.

 

 

_Left, right. Left, right. Left…_

A swaying motion woke Anders, but he couldn’t quite make out where it was coming form. A boat?

_Left, right. Left, right. Left…_

No, it wasn’t the same as a boat. The Maker knew he’d been on one long enough to recognize it. This was… different, but still _familliar…_

A grunt came from below him, and something tight around his legs shifted slightly. _Ohhh, being carried._ He realized slowly. There was someone below him, someone strong, who smelled of sweat and something like sword polish, two very different things that somehow managed to not be too horrible when put together, and who had shorter hair that kept tickling his cheek with every step.

Anders considered waking up fully, opening his eyes and all that, but then he decided it was utter nonsense. Then he’d have to _walk_ , and he was still so tired… so tired…

_Left, right. Left, right. Left…_

And it was just so relaxing, the gentle swaying…

Yes, it would simply be stupid to wake up. Utter nonsense.

Laying here on Carver’s back was so much nicer than walking…

_Carver?_

He paused in his thinking for a moment, and then nodded mentally. Yes, this had to be Carver. No one else would smell like sweat and sword polish...

And he liked to think he knew the boy well enough to recognize his footfalls, especially if he were riding on top of them.

_Carver Hawke… Hmm…_

 

 

 


	12. In which Marian Pays a Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MARIAN IS MY CHILD AND I LOVE HER
> 
> I HOPE YOU LOVE HER TOO  
> ENJOY~

“We’re home!” Garrett called, opening the door and walking inside. Carver walked past him, Anders still draped across his back, asleep. He was exhausted, and his legs were burning from bearing the weight of the mage for such a long time, and-

“GAREBEAR!”

_No way._

His head shot up, only to see a tall, black-haired female with piercingly blue eyes running straight towards them, a brilliant smile on her face.

“Marian?” the name tore out of his brother’s mouth, along with a disbelieving laugh. A moment later the girl launched herself through the air and landed with her limbs wrapped around the elder Hawke – he slammed against the door with the force of it, but didn’t seem to mind. “Marian, _maker_ it is you!” Garrett laughed. “How are you… _what_ are you… we thought you were dead!”

“Oh come on, Garebear, you should know I’m not _that_ easy to kill.” Marian laughed, jumping off of him. “I escaped from the circle with a couple of friends when it all went south. Bunch a blood mages attacked, all that. It was a mess.” She shrugged. “Aaaand where’s my favorite little cous… oh, no _way._ ”

At the same time as she said this, Anders sat up straight, and Carver shouted in surprise, stumbling.

 _”Andy?”_ Marian gasped. Above him, the mage’s face split into a grin.

“Marian! What the hell are _you_ doing… are you _related_ to them?”

“Yeah! Our moms were second cousins.” She said.

“What the hell is going on?” Carver demanded. “You… you were _awake?”_ He demanded of the mage above him. Anders flushed.

“Uh… not exactly?”

Carver growled.

Then he walked to the couch, turned around, and promptly let go. Anders fell to the cushions with a surprised shout.

“Maker, Carver, what was _that_ for?” The mage demanded.

“Do you know how fucking _heavy_ you are?” The boy responded. Anders winced. “How long have you been awake?”

“I mean… not _that_ long.” He said.

“Why were you asleep in the first place? Are you alright?” Bethany cut in, running up with some water. Anders accepted it with a grateful smile, and then sighed.

“Just a bit exhausted…” He replied.

“Now _this_ I have to hear.” Marian grinned, flopping onto one of the other couches.

And so Garrett went into a brief explanation of their trip from Fereldan to Kirkwall, working for Meeran, and meeting his various companions, and then talked about how they’d started going around to help people. Then he told them about Seamus and Ashaad, and fighting the winters, and how Anders had healed the Qunari man and passed out, and Carver cut in to angrily rant about how heavy the mage was on the trip back, and how he’d had to wait in some shady back ally while Garrett got to go in and took nearly half an hour to return Seamus to his father, and Anders defended that he had no recollection of stopping and as such must have still been asleep at that point, and then Garrett took over again with a roll of his eyes and ended with arriving home, only to see Marian standing in the kitchen.

“And here we are.” He finished. Marian whistled appreciatively.

“That is certainly quite the adventure.” Their cousin remarked, eyebrows raised. “What exactly have you boys been getting into while I was gone?”

“Don’t ask.” Carver muttered.

She just grinned at him.

“Fine, then.” She turned to Garrett. “Where’d this tattooed elf I heard about get off to?”

“Wh…what?” Garrett flushed. “I didn’t… the tattoos, how’d… um.” He gulped. Carver raised an eyebrow at Bethany; she just smiled innocently, and he sighed. “He went home. When we got here.” She huffed indignantly.

“Well that won’t do.” She said. “I want to meet him.”

“I want to see this.” Anders whispered to Carver, who glared at him in response. Anders winced, reminded he was still very much in the metaphorical ‘dog house’, and gave an apologetic shrug.

“What _I_ want to know,” Bethany cut in, leaning on her eldest brother’s shoulder, “is how _you two_ know each other.” She looked pointedly between Anders and Marian.

They grinned at each other, and Carver stared.

_Is that the same Anders?_

He almost wasn’t sure it was. The mage suddenly looked years younger, a devious glint in his eyes and a grin parting his lips, and something just seemed to lift off his shoulders and made everything about him… _brighter,_ somehow.

“Fereldan Circle.” The mage replied.

“Good times.” Marian agreed. “Well, the company at least.”

“You’re not wrong there.”

“Were…” Bethany stopped them, and everyone looked at her. She was red in the face, not with embarrassment but with realization and excitement. “Were you two _dating?_ ”

There was a pause, and for some reason Carver felt his chest grow rather numb, because…

 _His cousin? And Anders?_ He made a face.

_Ewwwwww._

Then the two mages burst into laughter.

“He wishes.” Marian snorted, and Anders shrugged.

“I tried.” He said.

“Unfortunately for him, I’m gayer than Garrett.” Marian chuckled, to which the oldest Hawke squeaked in embarrassment. Carver flushed bright red.

“I hate you all.” He muttered, and Anders sent him a look, chuckling.

“No you don’t, you _loooooove_ me.” Marian replied, grinning at him again.

Carver glared back, and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, come off it, Carver. Loosen up, _smile_ for once!”

“That’s what I keep telling him.” Anders agreed, and Carver huffed angrily.

“What are you even _doing_ here, Marian?” He muttered.

“What, you’re not happy to see I’m alive?” She raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not that.” He said. “You could’ve. You know. Written a letter or something. At least _warned_ me for the on-coming headache.”

“That would have killed the suspense.” She whispered.

He scowled.

She laughed.

He scowled harder.

It was a thing, with them.

“Anyways, I’m sure you guys heard about the Fereldan Circle.” She said. “I barely made it out alive, honestly. It was a mess.” She sighed, shaking her head. “So many people lost…” She looked at Anders. “Kelsie didn’t make it, you know.”

The mirth faded from the mage’s eyes, and Carver frowned.

“I know.” Anders replied quietly. “I saw her, on my way out.”

“I just thought you should know.” Marian said. “Anyways, once I was free I grabbed a boat and headed for the hills with a couple of friends. And Kaite, of course… she wanted to come, but being married and all-“

“WHAT?” Leandra cut in, mouth dropping open. “Kat is _married?”_

“Yeah.” Marian laughed. “We chilled with a Dalish tribe in hiding for a while, and her and Ameli… yeah. They’re happy and safe, but they’re working on having a child somehow, so she couldn’t make it down here.” She explained. “I got word of Garrett, though, actually, which is how I even knew to come. I looked for you guys, when I got out, but they told me Lothering was overrun and destroyed. I thought you guys were dead too.” She grinned. “Good thing we Amells don’t die so easy.”

“I’m glad you’re alright, Marian.” Garrett said. “Really.”

“You too, Garebear.” Marian laughed, hopping up to pull him into another hug.

When they’d been little, the two of them had practically been twins. Marian and her siblings (there were three of them) had lived with them for nearly five years in Fereldan, but one day her father had decided it was time for them to move on, and then the Hawke family woke up one morning and they were just… gone, aside from a sloppily written note thanking them for everything, and assuring them that they’d be alright.

It was nearly two years later that they’d gotten a message from Marian, the return address being the Fereldan Circle tower. She was always very vague in her letters (probably because all the mail was read by Templars before being sent or received) but she’d never said who of her family was with her, or how they’d gotten caught in the first place. Carver frowned, studying her, and debated whether or not to ask.

He sighed. _Everyone is happy right now, might as well not break the mood._

She wasn’t actually their cousin, technically – her mother had been Leandra’s second cousin, so she was still related to them in some way but no one bothered to figure out what the actual term was. They’d always just been ‘cousins’.

There was a time they’d considered each other siblings, honestly. Her mom had disappeared not long after her youngest sister was born, and her father had then taken the four of them and fled to Fereldan, showing up outside the Hawke’s door one morning in mid-Eluviesta, children shivering and about to pass out from exhaustion.

All of them, the children that is, were mages.

Malcom had agreed to teach them along with Bethy and Garrett, and soon it’d been like a little school (but one that Carver was never invited to join). He’d only been four when they showed up; he was almost ten when they’d left. Still, they’d been family. When they disappeared, it was like sort of like they’d suddenly ceased to exist. Holidays seemed emptier for a while, and the house had been so quiet…

Seeing Marian there, in the kitchen, it was… surreal, almost, like she really _had_ just come back from the dead.

“I’d like to say you haven’t changed much, but that’d be a lie.” Marian commented, looking around at all of them. “Garrett, are you… you are! You’re taller than me now! Damn.” She cursed, but she was still smiling. “And you know, when I first got here and Bethy opened the door, I almost didn’t recognize her.” She raised an eyebrow at Carver. “Hmm…. You’re about the same.”

Carver glared at her.

“Screw you, Marian.”

She rolled her eyes.

“It was a _joke_ , Carv. You’re probably taller than me now too, I bet. Curses. I leave for a few years and suddenly all of you turn into giants!”

“You’re still plenty tall, Mari.” Bethany laughed. “You’ll always be taller than me, at least.”

“Yeah, well, some things will never change.” Marian laughed, wrapping an arm around the Hawke’s shoulders. “You’re too precious to be taller than me, anyways.”

“What does that even mean?” Carver muttered, and Anders chuckled silently next to him. The mage still looked tired, and was pale, but he had this weird expression on his face that somehow made him look younger, a glint in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Andy, even _you’ve_ changed, don’t chuckle at me like that.” Marian turned to him accusingly. “Look at you lot, growing up without me.”

“You’ve no idea.” Anders sighed quietly.

A bit of the spark died, and Carver frowned.

 _Marian knew him before Justice. Before the Wardens._ He realized. _I wonder how he used to be back then._

He hesitated, and then nudged the Mage’s shoulder gently. Anders looked at him, and he didn’t to anything but stare back for a moment. Anders smiled, nodding slightly.

“I’m serious!” Marian was still ranting off on the side, looking around at all of them. “I feel like I missed the entirety of your youth!”

“You sound like an angry grandma.” Carver replied flatly.

She turned to him slowly.

“I know you didn’t just call me old, Carver dearest.”

“You’re the one complaining how we all grew up, and if you’re older than us…” he shrugged. “Maybe you _are_ old.”

The room was quiet; Garrett looked terrified, and Leandra slightly angry, while Bethy just sighed and shook her head.

“Carver.” Anders muttered. “Too far?”

But he ignored him. Marian was staring at him, eyes narrowed, but he could _see_ the amusement in her face. Even after all these years, he still knew her better than the others did, and she knew him too.

Out of everyone in his family, she’d always gotten him best. Granted, she’d also always gotten on his nerves the most. Marian was… an adventure. Impossible to predict, and impossible to describe.

And, rather suddenly, she was flopping into his lap, legs flailing and arms wrapping around his neck, a loud laugh bursting from her throat. There were several sighs of relief from around the room, his family just being glad he hadn’t pissed her off.

“Oh, Carv, you really _haven’t_ changed, have you?” She chuckled, pressing a light kiss against his cheek.

“Ack… get off of me! You’re _heavy!_ ” He cursed, trying to get his arms free from behind her back.

“Oh, calling me fat now too?” Marian raised an eyebrow. Her muscles were locked like iron, and no matter how hard he struggled she refused to budge. Eventually he just gave up, sighing in defeat.

“I hate you.”

“Noooooooooo you don’t.”

“Yes, I really do.”

“Nah.”

He glared at her, her face aggressively close to his, but he refused to back down. She giggled.

“Maker, I missed you lot.” She said eventually, dropping her head to his shoulder and twisting to the side so she was still able to see the rest of the room. His arms remained crossed under her back, and he continued to glare at the wall across the room, but honestly…

He wasn’t all that mad. It was Marian, that’s just how they got along.

 _Maker,_ it was so familiar and yet from such a long time ago, and he didn’t quite know what to do with it. So he just sat there, and sighed, and rolled his eyes, and listened as she talked for a bit more about her journey there, the boat ride, how her sister was in the woods, about the Dalish clan they’d joined, and so on.

She didn’t mention her other siblings, though. And she never talked about her time at the circle, or how she got there. Maybe no one else noticed.

Carver did.

Regardless, an hour later Leandra had long gone to bed (after kissing all her children – and Marian – on the forehead and wishing Anders a warm ‘good night’) and they were all still sprawled in various positions in Gamlen’s living room. Marian had, at some point, shifted so that her legs were across Anders’ lap while her head still rested on Carver’s shoulder, and she’d made the two of them shift around so she could do so, complaining about bony knees and elbows or something. As such, they were now closer together, and it was awkward because Carver wasn’t entirely sure what to do with his arm. If he put it on Marian it’d be laying across her stomach, which. Honestly. _She_ probably wouldn’t mind (Marian had a very small space bubble when it came to people she was comfortable with – ‘completely platonic cuddling’ she’d always say) but that didn’t mean _Carver_ was comfortable doing it.

But, that meant his arm was either awkwardly shoved under her back, or awkwardly smushed against Anders, and neither one of those was comfortable either.

“Carver, you look like a cornered porcupine.” Bethany commented, and he glared at her.

“Yes, well maybe if _someone_ would just _sit up like a normal person…_ ”

“Hush, you’re stupidly comfortable.” Marian replied. “I’m not moving.”

“Have I mentioned how heavy you are yet?” He grumbled.

“Multiple times.” Anders replied with a grin. Then he rolled his eyes. “Relax, I’m not going to bite, pinky promise.”

Carver glanced at him, only planning to sigh in exasperation, but what he saw stopped him, because Anders’s tone might have been joking, but there was an almost panicked look in his eyes, and his shoulders were tense. Carver frowned, wondering why for a moment.

Then he remembered Justice, and realized that Anders thought he was scared of him.

“Maker, you’re an idiot.” He announced aloud, and the mage blinked while the rest of them frowned in confusion.

“Carver, you think everyone’s an idiot.” Marian replied easily, breaking in before anyone could ask, and whether it was just good timing, or her knowing more than she let on, he couldn’t tell, but he was grateful for it.

“Yes, well, that’s generally because they are.” He replied tartly.

Then he sighed, and allowed himself to relax against the couch for the first time in, oh, an hour and a half. This meant he was now partially leaning on Anders, but the mage didn’t seem to mind, shifting for a second before his arm came out from where it’d been laying on the couch under Marian’s knees, and…

…casually draped across Carver’s on the couch, linking them together in a way, which then solved the issue of the awkward arm struggles.

Sort of.

Carver flushed, but he also couldn’t really find a good reason to pull away, and Maker knew what horrid self-guilt state Anders would go into if he did, after all, and, “Why do my pillows keep shifting? I was comfortable, dammit.” Marian complained, kicking her feet in childish protest.

“Ah, forgive me, my lady, your comfort is the only thing that matters to me.” Anders replied with a grin, which she returned just as easily. Carver frowned between them – Marian’s eyes were sparkling mischievously. She’d always gotten that look when she’d pulled a prank on someone when they were kids, or when she knew something she definitely wasn’t supposed to because she’d been eavesdropping in the middle of the night while their parents sat in the main room and talked.

But then, he’d given up on trying to figure her out long ago. Whatever she knew, she’d keep it to herself until it either wasn’t important anymore or until someone asked her about it, anyways.

Anders, however, was far easier to figure out. His smile was a bit more relieved than actually teasing, and the tension had slowly leaked out of his shoulders. Carver could feel it, seeing as he was practically leaning on the mage’s shoulder, if he dropped his head a little to the left. _He really is an idiot._ He thought. _Sure, the spirit thing is weird, I guess… but he only comes out when Anders feels threatened or hopeless or something, right?_

After all, he’d been safe around the mage for months… almost a year, by that point, actually. It’s not like he was suddenly any less safe than he had been before now that he knew. Anders just tended to worry over nothing, was all.

And, well, it _was_ more comfortable, sitting like this, so he really didn’t have much to protest, did he?

They talked for a little while longer, Carver mostly just sitting silently and listening, but for once he wasn’t glaring at everything.

Because this feeling was… _so weird._ Garrett being home, Marian being back… Maker, it was almost like he had a family again.

He vaguely wondered if it were all just some elaborate dream.

“I think Marian fell asleep.” Anders muttered, peering over at the mage.

_Or a nightmare._

“Dammit.” He cursed, wiggling his shoulder. “Mari. Not cool. Wake-“

“Shh! It’s fine, let her sleep.” Anders shrugged. “It’s not like I can walk home at this hour anyways, not alone at least.”

“Rule number one.” Garrett agreed from across the room, and the two men grinned at each other. Carver knew he was probably missing out on some inside joke, and decided to glare at the both of them. “Besides, Bethany’s asleep too.” He looked over at his youngest sibling, curled up in the armchair, head pillowed on her hands. “And we’re short beds, even if they were up.”

“Think of it this way, Carv, either way you’re stuck on the couch.” Anders said brightly.

“How do you figure that?” Carver responded with a little scowl.

“Guests get the beds.” Garrett replied for him. “And Bethany gets priority. Two guests means two beds, thus means you and me.” He explained, looking rather apprehensive at the suggestion of him and his brother being stuck in the same room alone all night long, and Carver honestly couldn’t blame him. They didn’t get along all that well these days, it seemed.

Not that they ever really had…

“Fine, _fine_ , whatever.” Carver muttered in defeat. “When we all have sore necks tomorrow don’t blame me.”

“Those are easy enough to fix, fear not.” Anders replied, and nudged his shoulder. Carver flushed and glared at him.

“Oh, goodie. Lucky, lucky me.” He muttered, dropping his head back against the cushions. Garrett sighed, and then, with a flick of his fingers, turned the lamp off. The living room was suddenly cast into darkness, and silence fell over them all.

It wasn’t long before Garrett’s deep snores began to fill the room, and Carver regretted every decision he’d ever made in his life that’d lead to that moment. At least, he did until suddenly there was something soft brushing against his face and a new weight on his shoulder and…

“Anders?” He whispered.

The Mage didn’t reply, fast asleep once more. Carver sighed, now the only one awake, currently covered in people, with Marian’s hair tickling the right side of his face and Anders the left, and everyone one of Garrett’s breaths vibrating up his entire form from the sheer intensity of them.

“Maker.” He cursed into the silence, but it was quiet and a lot more gentle than he really intended it to be. He sighed to himself, and then, against his better judgment, allowed his head to drop forwards, nestled between his cousin and the healer.

 _It’s warm._ He thought. _Like it used to be._

His eyes closed against his will, not that he was fighting too hard to keep them open.

_I miss how it used to be._

The world started to fade into the pleasant darkness of sleep, and as he dozed off, he could have sworn he felt Marian’s face shift into a smile.

 

~~~

 

The thirty seconds of clawed feet scrabbling on wood was all the warning Carver got the next morning before something hard and heavy landed on his chest and a wet tongue licked up his face.

“Ack, wh… _Miles?_ Down, off… Miles!” he protested, struggling to sit up. The Mabari had his front paws planted firmly on Carver’s thighs, not intent on moving in the least. “Dammit, Garrett, get your dog off of me!”

A moment later, and a second weight he hadn’t noticed at fist lifted off his side. He frowned, turning…

Only to see a wide-eyed, messy-haired Anders glaring at the canine on his legs with distaste.

“Of _all_ the ways to be woken up…”

“Morning, boys!” Marian called, wandering in, a towel wrapped around her head. “How’d you sleep? Wasn’t so bad on the couch, now was it?”

“It was good until you let this damn dog out.” Carver said, but his hands were shredding through Miles’s fur, fingers scratching behind the animal’s ears. “When did you get up, anyways?”

“You were sound asleep.” She chuckled. “Both of you! I couldn’t believe it. Everyone in this family sleeps like rocks. I took a shower and everything!”

“What’s goin… Marian?” They all looked over to see Garrett blinking sleepily, sitting up from where he’d flopped over in the other couch. For a moment he stared at his cousin like she was a ghost. Then his face split into a smile. “Maker, I thought that was a dream!”

“Your snoring certainly wasn’t.” Carver muttered, and then glared at Miles. “Garrett, my legs are starting to go numb.”

“Miles!” Garrett said brightly, finally noticing the animal. At hearing his master call his name, the Mabari’s ears perked up and moment later he was off across the room, jumping all the way up onto the couch next to the eldest Hawke, licking his face heartily. Garrett laughed, putting one hand up to defend himself while the other rubbed the dog’s furry white underbelly.

“Where’s Bethany?” Carver asked, frowning as he noticed his twin missing.

“Here!” Bethany called from the kitchen. “Making breakfast with mom!”

“Good morning!” Leandra’s voice followed hers, a chuckle in it. Carver sighed.

“Maker.” He muttered, dropping his face into his hands. “This is why I lock my door.”

“You seemed happy enough with him practically sitting on you.” Anders replied, raising an eyebrow, and Carver looked at him, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, well, he’s a dog, and even if he’s a disobedient one-“ a muffled protest came from Garrett, but he ignored it, “he’s still part of the family.” The mage stared at him.

“Riiiiiight.” He shook his head. “I’ll never understand what you see in those creatures.”

“Oh, Andy, loosen up!” Marian laughed, reaching down to nudge his shoulder. “Anyways, food’s almost done. Rise and shine and all of that.”

“I call the bathroom first.” Garrett said loudly, and without being told Miles jumped down, trotting behind at Garrett’s heels as he walked down the hallway.

“If we had more than one _bathroom…_ ” Carver muttered.

“This house was just fine when it was only me in it.” A new voice said, and Gamlen appeared around the corner, eyes narrowed at him. “It’s not _my_ fault your blasted blight drove you here.”

“No, but it is your fault that my mother’s house is gone.” Marian said innocently, but there was an underlying poison in her voice. Gamlen hesitated for a moment, then just grunted and disappeared back into the kitchen. Marian grinned brightly at the two of them still left.

“Gamlen and I had a little talk before you got home yesterday.” She said. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

They shared a skeptical glance. Then Carver shrugged.

“Do what you want with him.” he replied quietly so his uncle couldn’t hear. Marian laughed, ruffled his hair, and then, ignoring his protests, walked out of the room with a, “hurry up! Breakfast in ten!”

“Cursed mages.” He muttered. Anders frowned.

“What in the world does any part of this have to do with mages?”

Carver shrugged.

“She’s a mage.”

“So is everyone else here, besides your mother and uncle.”

“You’re only proving my point.” Carver replied. “Constantly surrounded by mages. _Constantly._ ” He complained. Anders rolled his eyes.

“It’s a wonder you stay sane.” He replied sarcastically, and Carver scowled at him. The mage laughed, and then stretched. “Maker, I have to say, I slept better here than I did on my couch.”

“Don’t get used to it.” Carver muttered, face flushing.

_That’s right._

_Anders had been asleep… on him. All night. And Marian had gotten up at some point, which meant…_

He grunted, flushing even deeper.

“What?” Anders raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing. I’m going to go kick Garrett out of the bathroom.” He replied, and then stood and crossed the room without waiting for a reply.

Anders stared after him as he went, a content smile on his face, and, from the doorway of the kitchen, Marian grinned.

_Oh, they’re SO busted._


	13. In which Carver gets a Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> welllll im sorry to contribute to the shitty-ness of 2k16 by forgetting to post for the last few months, it got really insane and i'm kind of really bad a procrastination but!  
> to start 2k17 off correctly heres a new chapter
> 
> happy new year!!!!

“aaaaAAAACHOOO!”

“Bless you… here.” Someone handed him a tissue. He grunted. “You know, the proper response is ‘thank you.’”

He blinked his eyes open to glare at Marian, perched in a chair beside his bed. He jumped, bumping against the wall, and if it hadn’t been there he’d have fallen to the floor.

“Maker, Marian… what in _Andraste’s name_ are you doing in my _room?”_ He cursed, and then let out another loud sneeze. She rolled her eyes.

_”Please._ ” She replied in exasperation. “You’ve had a fever all night long, if you don’t recall, sneezing your head off and hurling into a bucket, remember?”

“Sort of hard to forget.” He grunted, pushing himself to a sitting position. His head was screaming in agony, and he winced, grabbing at it. She sighed.

“You should go see your healer friend.” She said.

“You know his name, why don’t you just use it.” He replied, though his words were muffled by a stuffy nose. She rolled her eyes.

“Fine. _Anders._ You should go see him. He could help you.”

“Screw you, Marian.”

“We’re cousins, Carv, that’s generally-“

“FUCK IT, you’re IMPOSSIBLE!” He cut her off, dropping face first back into the pillows with a low moan, partially because the light hurt his head and partially to hide the blush on his face. She cackled with laughter, and then said, “Well, since you won’t go see him, it’s a good thing I thought ahead and told Bethy to bring him over.”

“What?” Carver sat back up instantly, but the room spun and suddenly he didn’t feel so good, and then there was a trashcan shoved in front of his face and he found himself gagging into it, nothing left in his stomach after the night before, and yet the reflex was still there. A hand rubbed his back and he tried not to think of it as ‘lovingly’ but it was hard.

Marian could be exceptionally gentle when she wanted to be.

“There you go, get it all out.” Marian said, and he looked up for a moment to glare at her before turning back to the bucket. “Gross, Carver, you could at least wipe the bile off your face before scowling at me.”

He would have glared again, but he was otherwise occupied emptying whatever was left of his meager dinner into the trash.

Then, suddenly, he heard the front door open and close, and groaned at the same time as Marian cheered.

“Anders is here!” she said.

“Maker.” He cursed.

The door opened.

“Carver?”

“Go away.”

“He’s got the flu.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Warning, he’s a stubborn ass when he’s sick.”

“Shut _up_ , Marian.”

“Hmm… on second thought, he’s just constantly at stubborn ass.”

There was an exasperated sigh.

“Are you two always like this?”

“Pretty much.” There was some shuffling, and then footsteps. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Feel better, Carver!”

The door closed, and there was a long pause.

“You’re a mess.” was Anders’ first comment. Carver finally picked his head up from where it’d been dipped against his knees, only to glare at the mage.

“I believe I said go away.”

Anders snorted. “You wish.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Maker, Carver.” Anders rolled his eyes. “Why didn’t you just come to the clinic? It’s not all that hard to heal common sicknesses like the flu when they’re in their early stages, you know.”

Carver knew that. But he hadn’t wanted to walk all the way there. And he hadn’t particularly wanted the mage to see him sick. Or anyone, for that matter. He hated being ill, hated the feeling of it and hated not being able to move and hated the heat flashes and random bouts of shivers and the _sneezing_ and the runny, bright red noses and just _all of it, he hated all of it._

“It’s not my fault you’re so damn far away.” He muttered, but it came out differently than it’d sounded in his head, and he regretted it almost as soon as it was out of his mouth, and if he hadn’t been so pale from being sick he’d have been bright red with embarrassment. “Fuck. You know what I mean.”

Anders rolled his eyes, but didn’t respond, and Carver wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

“You should be resting.” The mage said instead. “Go on, lay back down. Do you know how high your temperature is?” Carver shook his head, and Anders sighed. “Alright, hold still.”

Then he reached out and pressed the back of his hand against Carver’s forehead.

Carver was, for the first time in his life, grateful that he was sick, and as such was once again too pale to blush.

A frown creased the mage’s forehead, and then he sighed.

“If you’d come sooner, I could have done more.” He said. “But at this point, it’s mostly done with the worst part anyways. Whatever’s sticking around should be gone within a day or so.”

“Goodie for me.” Carver replied flatly, and Anders chuckled.

“Marian is right, you are a stubborn ass when you’re sick.”

“Screw you.” He muttered.

Marian’s voice popped into his head.

Again he’d have flushed if he could.

Again he was glad he couldn’t.

“Does your head hurt?” Anders asked, and Carver glared at him.

“What was your _first_ clue?”

“You squinting at all the lights.” Anders replied with a grin, and Carver would have glared at him, he would have, but he just didn’t have the energy to deal with the mage and so he settled for an irritated sigh and puling the blankets up higher around his shoulders. “Come on, don’t be like that. Let me get it.” Anders said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Carver sighed.

“Fine, if you insist.”

“It’s _your_ headache.”

“Are you going to get rid of it or not?”

“Maker, you’re in a bad mood.” Carver grunted softly, and Anders sighed. “Hold still.” Then the glowing green hand hovered just over his forehead like it had the day when he’d woken up after the… _mess_ with Justice. Back then, it’d been pleasantly cold… now it was _freezing,_ and he jumped in surprise, trying to pull away.

“Dammit!” He cursed, and Anders rolled his eyes.

“Your head is warmer, thus my hand seems colder.” He said. “But it’s really not. Now stay still, would you?”

“Could have _warned_ me.” Carver grumbled, grudgingly laying back against the pillow once more. Anders just sighed and his fingers started to glow again – Carver still flinched at the sudden coldness, but managed not to pull away.

A minute later, and his headache was all but gone.

“Better?” Anders asked, and Carver glared at him.

“I guess.”

“Maker, you’re insufferable! Do you often get sick like this? Your poor family!” Anders said, but he was grinning. Carver sighed.

“Generally, _no,_ I _don’t_ get sick.” He replied. “And I’ve never had a fancy healer before now, so why Marian insists on sticking her nose into everyone’s _business_ , I don’t understand.” He snapped.

There was a pause.

“If you really don’t-“

“I’m sorry.” Carver cut him off before he could finish, sounding much less cross and much more tired. “I didn’t mean it like that. She just… it’s been _interesting,_ having her here, and I’m honestly about done with it. This damn sickness isn’t helping.” He grunted, rolling on his side. He propped his head up on his elbow, actually looking at the mage for the first time since he’d come in without glaring at him.

“You shouldn’t be an ass to people who are just trying to help you, though.” Anders raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, well, I’m not… _used_ to people trying to help me.” He replied. “Normally my siblings give up and leave me alone. Thus, I haven’t had to practice being pleasant while ill very often.” His voice was thick with sarcasm, but Anders frowned.

“Seriously?” He asked. Carver shrugged halfheartedly.

“I’d rather just get over it. No use babying myself.”

“You’re allowed to take a break every now and then, especially when you’re sick, you know.” Anders said. “Maker, Carver, why do you have to be so damn stubborn?”

There was a pause, and then Carver sighed.

“My dad got sick, remember?” He said, and Anders stilled, mouth closing and eyebrows drawing together in concern. “I don’t know, it’s just a _thing_ I have, okay? I hate being sick, and I hate people _seeing_ me be sick. It… reminds me of him. Watching him die.” The last bit of that sentence came out in a mumbled rush, but Anders got the gist of it anyways. “Don’t look at me like that.” The boy murmured after a moment. “I didn’t want pity. It was just an explanation.” 

“Right.” Anders nodded, but inside him there still was that little voice going, _Oh, Carver…_ Sometimes he really did forget how much the younger Hawke had been through in his mere 18 years of life. “Well, if you really would rather be alone, I can go.” The mage offered, slightly hating himself for it. Everything in his nature said to stay, not just because he was sick and, as a healer it was his duty, but because… well, recently he’d gotten attached to Garrett’s younger brother.

“I… well.” Carver hesitated, and then shrugged. “If you’re not busy, or whatever, then I don’t _mind_ , really. Besides, it’s too late now, you’ve already seen me, right?” He paused. “But, if you’ve got work to do… you know, people to heal and all that, don’t put me over any of them. That’s all.”

Anders blinked.

“You know,” he said eventually, “I can’t quite tell whether you’re easier to be around when your sick, or harder.” Carver looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Meaning?”

“Well, you certainly do talk a lot more.” Anders chuckled. “I think that’s the most readily open you’ve been about anything since I met you.”

Carver studied him for a moment, and Anders sort of missed the constant blushing on the younger man’s face, but there was also something sort of refreshing about how Carver was now…

He wasn’t so guarded. Granted, he looked like shit, pasty colored with his hair all greasy and bloodshot eyes, which was the downside to being sick for anyone… but he also didn’t have his mask on, or at least not has much as usual.

“I don’t have the energy to be cryptic.” Carver eventually said with a simple little shrug. Anders stared for a moment.

Then he started laughing.

“Maker, Carver, you sure are something.” Anders replied, and Carver rolled his eyes. Then there was a knock on the door, and Marian’s face popped in.

“Everything alright in here?” She asked. “I could have sworn I heard laughing.”

“That’s a cause for concern nowadays?” Anders shot back, eyebrow raised, a grin still on his face, and she shrugged.

“It is when you’re in here with grumpy-butt Carver. One would almost think he was loosening up or something, and I just _know_ the world will end when that happens.” She said.

Carver _did_ manage to find the energy to glare at her, somehow.

“Have you ever considered I just don’t like _you?”_ He muttered. She rolled her eyes.

“Sure, Carver, but then I realized you love me to much to hate me.” She winked at him, and then said, “Garrett’s going to show me some dragons, so I’ll be gone for a while. Leandra went out with Bethany to the market, something about a sale, so you’ve got the house to yourselves…”

She sent the two of them a look, and neither quite knew what to do with it.

Then, after another wink and a grin, she was gone. They listened as she paced around, and as Garrett’s deep voice buzzed slightly through the walls, sounding almost like he was complaining.

Then the front door closed, and a humming sort of silence settled over the house.

“Well that was odd.” Anders said, breaking it, and Carver scoffed.

“It’s nothing new.” He muttered. “She’s always been like that.”

“You aren’t wrong.” Anders shrugged. Carver frowned.

“I keep forgetting you two knew each other.” He said. “That’s just… _weird._ ”

“I’ve been in a lot of circles, Carver.” Anders said, and his voice was light, but there was a dark tone underneath it. “And as such, I know a lot of mages. It’s not all that weird.” He sighed. “I should have recognized the name sooner, honestly. She went by Amell in Fereldan, I just never thought about it once I met you. I’m too used to thinking of your family as ‘Hawke’.” He chuckled.

“Why’d she stop using her father’s name?” Carver frowned, and Anders paused. 

“Didn’t you ever wonder how she and all her siblings ended up in the Circles?” The mage said, voice quieting, and Carver’s eyes widened.

“He was an ass, but I didn’t realize… Maker.” He cursed. “I never thought he’d actually do that.”

“She and her sister – Kaite – ended up together, but no one knew about it. When he decided to give them up to the circles, she ran away. A few months later she joined her youngest sister there, to make sure she was safe.” Anders said. “We met not long after. I taught her some healing magic, you know. Maker, that was _such_ a long time ago.” He sighed.

“So did you actually…” Carver started, but then stopped abruptly. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.” Anders rolled his eyes.

“Did I like her? Yes, Carver, since you seem so determined to root around in my love life, or lack thereof, I did.”

“You didn’t have to answer.” Carver replied sourly. Anders just laughed.

“I didn’t, but it’s not a big deal.” He shrugged. “I mean, it was at the time. Heartbroken, throwing the pebbles at the windows, writing love sonnets everyday-“

“I will dump the trashcan on your head, magey, don’t think I won’t.” Carver threatened.

“You think I could handle being a healer if a little puke bothered me?” Anders shot back, grinning.  Carver scowled at him. “Seriously, though, she was my friend. A good one, for as long as I was there. When the mess with the Circle happened, I tried to find her. I was going to offer to bring her with me.” He shrugged. “Should have known she’d find her own way out. She always was a tough one.” He laughed. “Besides, she’d never have let anything happen to Kaite.”

Carver listened with a mix of fascination and something like disgruntlement. He’d only known Marian when he was little, six or so, and his memories of her were mostly filled with childish bickering, him glaring at her as she teased him and such…

Although…

“When dad was ignoring me,” Carver said suddenly, “she’d always take me out to the woods to play. She’d build things with sticks, forts and stuff, that she’d let me climb around in, and she’d practice sword fighting with me.”

There was a pause.

“Oh Maker.” Anders said, and Carver looked over to see him hiding a smile behind his hand. “That sounds too adorable to be true. Little Carver, running around in a magical fort, swinging a wooden sword…”

“Shut up.” Carver muttered, slipping further under the sheets. Anders laughed, raising his hands in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just hard to imagine you as a child.” The mage said, and Carver paused for a moment, staring at him. “What?”

“You’re the only one who’d say that.” Carver replied, sighing. “Everyone else _still_ imagines me as a child.” Anders rolled his eyes.

“Again, with this.” He said in exasperation. “Merrill doesn’t and you can’t argue with me on that one, and Fenris just does not count.” He said. “Aveline acts like everyone’s mother, so that’s not just partial to you. She treats us all like children.” He huffed. “As for Varric, the dwarf has more respect for you than you seem to think, but other wise they just don’t know you, Carver. Do you know why _that_ is?” The mage asked, and then continued without pausing for an answer. “It’s because you never _talk_ to anyone. You want to be independent of Garrett so badly, go see people without him.” he shrugged. “It’s not like you need his permission to have friends, after all, right?” He raised an eyebrow.

Carver stared at him.

“Since when did you start making so much sense?” He muttered. “I hate it.”

“Ugh!” Anders threw his hands up in defeat, but he was grinning despite it. “I give up, Carver Hawke. Now stay here while I go make some soup or something, because Maker knows I’m starving, and you need to get something in your stomach.”

“Anders-“

“Zzzzt! No arguments.” The mage stood, ruffling Carver’s hair, and the boy protested, squirming away, but Anders just laughed. “I’ll be right back. Stay put.” He said, and then walked out the door.

“Fucking _mage._ ” Carver muttered, flattening his hair back down as he shimmied under the sheets once more. He was started to get cold, ridiculously so, but he didn’t want to ask for blankets, so the simple sheets would just have to do.

A good fifteen minutes later, Anders was walking back in, balancing a bowl in either hand, a piece of cloth covering his palm to keep the heat from burning him.

“Brunch is served!” He announced, sitting back in the chair.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Too bad.” Anders scoffed. “This soup is pretty damn good if I do say so myself. And you should try to get something in you.”

“I just got done getting sick and you want to feed me more?” Carver shot back. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Fine, be that way if you want to.” Anders shrugged. Carver glared at him a moment.

Then, grudgingly, he sighed and sat up, putting his hand out. Anders grinned and went to hand him a bowl – their fingers brushed underneath it, and when Carver tried to take it, he realized he couldn’t, because Anders hadn’t let go and was frowning in concern.

“What?” Carver grunted. “Do you want me to eat it or-“

“Your fingers are _freezing._ ” Anders cut him off, taking the bowl back and placing it on the desk nearby. Then he turned and grabbed both of Carver’s hands in his own. Carver was 98% certain that no sickness on the face of the planet could have stopped him from blushing then, at least not a little bit, and he spluttered indignantly.

“What are you…!”

_”Andraste’s ass,_ Carver, what is _wrong_ with you?” the mage cursed. “If you were cold you should have _said_ something! Maker, it’s like you have zero preservation instincts whatsoever.” A moment later he released the boy’s hands, dropping them back on the bed as he turned and promptly walked out of the room.

Carver sat there for a moment, stunned and vaguely wondering if the mage had just left him, but then Anders came striding back in, a pile of blankets in his arms. Carver frowned.

“Where in Thedas did you get all of those?” He asked. Anders shrugged.

“Your family won’t mind.”

He dropped them on the bed.

“Sit up, would you? I’m going to get rid of that fever you didn’t bother to mention, and then you’re going to eat this soup, and _then_ I’m going to find a pillow to smack you with for my troubles.”

Carver did as he was told, grumbling the entire time. Once he was sitting, it wasn’t long before there were nearly seven layers of folded blankets resting on his legs and around his neck and shoulders, and honestly the entire thing was just _ridiculous_ and “this is so stupidly unnecessary, I don’t need all these Maker forsaken blankets, I’m going to _die_ , Anders, this is ridiculous what’s _wrong_ with you” but his protests were completely ignored by the mage, and three minutes later he felt like a snowman and was holding a bowl of soup, glaring over the rim of it at the smug healer in the chair beside his bed.

“I hate you.”

“Ouch, Carver.”

“This is stup-“

“If you take even a single one of those blankets off, I will personally sit on you to keep you warm.” Anders announced firmly, and Carver wasn’t sure what to do with that so instead he just flushed and muttered something about ‘asshole blackmailing mages’, a term that he found he was using more and more frequently as of late, and filled his spoon with some soup.  

“Scoot over.”

He looked up, interrupted before he could actually ingest what he’d scooped up, and glared at the mage towering above him.

“First of all, I can’t, seeing as there’s twenty pounds of blankets on me, and second of all, why?” Carver replied. Anders rolled his eyes.

“Just do it, Carv.”

“I really do hate you.”

“I’m sure. Now scoot.”

Carver held is ground for a moment longer, and then gave up and, handing his bowl to the mage for a third time, shifted to the left. A moment later the bowl was being shoved back at him, and, after he took it, Anders plopped down next to him (careful not to spill the food everywhere) with a satisfied sigh.

“The bed is much more comfortable than the chair.” The mage said in response to Carver’s glare. “Besides, I certainly can’t get rid of that fever from across the room, can I?” 

“I never asked you to-“

“Carver, please shut up and let me do my job.” Anders cut him off with a grin.

Carver grunted angrily, but didn’t protest anymore. Anders nodded in satisfaction.

“Good. Now eat that and hold still, alright?”

“You performing surgery or something?” Carver muttered back. “Sit still this, stay put that…” Anders chose to ignore him, instead rolling up his sleeves.

“Look, don’t freak out, it’s going to be cold, alright? There, I warned you.” Anders said, and then suddenly there were hands on the back of Carver’s neck and he made a rather undignified sound and only half succeeded in not spilling his soup as he jerked in surprise.

_”Dammit,_ Anders!”

“I warned you!”

“You did _not_ warn me, you lying blackmail -“

“-mailing asshole mage, yes I know, now come back here and let me heal you.”

“No!”

“I’ll go find Marian. I will do it.” Anders threatened.

“You _are_ a blackmailing asshole.” Carver muttered, flushing again, at least as much as he could while being pale with cold. His hands were shaking slightly, but he ignored it. “I’m not a huge fan of people _touching_ me, especially not on my _neck_ , and most especially without my _permission._ ”

Anders paused, and then winced.

“Sorry?” He offered. “I didn’t think-“

“No, you didn’t.” Carver retorted angrily. There was a pause, and then he sighed. “Maker, _whatever._ Just do it already so I can get these stupid blankets off of me.” He returned to where he’d been before, bracing himself inwardly.

Still, Anders hesitated.

“What?” Carver snapped.

“If you’re not comfortable with it then you’re not.” Anders shrugged. “I’m not going to force it… the only other way to get better is to just ride it out, though.”

There was a pause, and then Carver sighed.

“Maker, everything has to have an explanation with you, doesn’t it?” He glared at the wall, and Anders tried to open his mouth and say something, but he was talking before he got the chance. “I was in the battle at Ostagar.” He said shortly. “We were fighting the darkspawn… hundreds, _thousands_ of them, but we were winning… until the Wardens ‘deserted us’, or so we were told.” He scowled. “Loghain was a bitch. No one believed him, no one with any sense, at least.  I wanted to keep fighting, but he called us back. He wouldn’t let us help them, and as a result _they all died._ ” Carver spat. Anders nodded along, not quite seeing what this had to do with anything recent but listening intently all the same. He’d _known_ Carver was at the battle but he’d never really thought about it before, the fact that’d he’d _been there_ when all the Wardens were massacred. “I saw the beacon light.” He said. “I saw Atisha’len and Min and Alistair light the beacon, but he called us back.” Carver’s voice was bitter. “They had to drag me away. I was fighting them, screaming at people to try to throw _some_ sense into them, but…” he shrugged. “I wouldn’t go quietly. So the nearest captain… he choked me until I passed out.”

Anders’s heard dropped to his toes.

“Are you serious?” He asked.

“Would I joke about something like that?” Carver muttered. “When I woke up, we were all back at the palace. I don’t think anyone noticed me… I just packed up what little I’d brought and went home.” He sighed. “When I got there, Garrett was already planning on leaving. Apparently they’d been told the Wardens had turned on King Calin and killed him or some nonsense like that, and he hadn’t known what to believe. He was certain the blight was coming though.” He sighed. “And I mean, he wasn’t wrong.” There was a pause. “Anyways. That’s… probably more than what you wanted. But there you have it.”

“I’m sorry, Carver.” Anders said, and Carver opened his mouth but, “and _don’t_ yell at me for saying that. I’m not _apologizing_ , I’m being empathetic, alright?” He rolled his eyes. Carver debated for a moment, then shrugged and decided not to protest.

“Yeah, well, sometimes people are jerks.” He muttered. “No changing it now.”

“I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have-“

“It’s fine, Maker, Anders.” Carver rolled his eyes. “Besides, it was mostly just because your hands were cold, anyways…”

He was lying, but that was alright.

Anders got it.

“Well, at least eat the soup. It might warm you up some.” The mage said, turning to grab his own off the desk, but Carver sighed.

“Look, it’s really not a big deal, alright?” He muttered. “Besides, I’m fairly certain I can trust you not to strangle me to death.” Anders hesitated still.

“Are you sure?”

“In about three minutes I’m going to start chucking the blankets at your face whether I have a fever or not, if that puts it into perspective.” The Hawke said in reply, and Anders rolled his eyes.

“Fine, _Maker_ you’re impossible.” He muttered, scooting closer again. “Ready?”

“Blankets, Anders. All over your face.”

“Right.” The Mage chuckled, and, with glowing green hands, once again placed them on the back of Carver’s neck. The boy still flinched, but he didn’t pull away, so neither did Anders. Instead he started focusing his energy into the body through the spinal chord, giving the immune system a boost to help it get rid of whatever it was making Carver sick. They were both silent the entire time (Anders having to concentrate, and Carver blushing to hard to form words) but within fifteen minutes it was over anyways, and Anders heaved a sigh of relief, going to pull his hands back.

Carver’s weight shifted with him, and Anders blinked in surprise.

“Carver?”

No response.

He frowned, leaving forwards to peer over the boy’s shoulder, only to realize he’d fallen asleep. Most of his weight was against the wall, but the rest of it was pressing firmly into Anders’ palms, and his skin was warm now, and _Maker, how did he manage to do this…_

Anders wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He tried pulling away again, but Carver groaned in sleepy protest.

_I mean, he DOES need to rest._ Anders thought. _I can always heat up the food later, and who knows when he’ll fall asleep again, stubborn as he is…_

_Excuses, Anders._

He frowned.

_I didn’t ask you._

_You are wasting your time._

_I am not._

_You are._

_Leave me alone, would you?_

And with that, he huffed and, with careful maneuvering, managed to get his arm around the back of Carver instead of his hands, without waking him up or moving him too much. Feeling rather satisfied with himself, he let go with his other hand and reached for his soup.

He couldn’t reach it.

_Maker!_ He cursed. Carver’s was close, but he’d been sick, and while Anders could heal other people, it was rather impossible to heal one’s self without a poultice or something.

He found himself with nothing to do but sit there.

And while he was sitting there, suddenly Carver began to move. Anders frowned, hoping he hadn’t woken him up, but instead Carver just moved _closer_ , his head falling against Anders’s shoulder, hair tickling the mage’s neck.

_Maker, there’s no way he’s awake._ Was Anders’ first thought, and then, _Why the hell is this so comfortable?_

And then, _Maker, what in the name of Andraste am I doing?_

He looked down at what little of Carver’s face he could see from the angle he was at, and then cursed again, because _why was his heart beating faster?_

Sure, he’d gotten attached to the younger Hawke. That was undeniable. But… it’d never been… _like this,_ this feeling of nervous anticipation, not with him. With Garrett, sure. Marian? Definitely. He’d even had a small crush on Bethany, at first.

But with Carver?

He’d never, ever expected this.

Whatever _this_ was.

“Oh, Maker.” He muttered with a sigh. Then he looked down again, and, slightly hating himself for it, allowed a small smile to grow on his face. “Carver Hawke, hmm.”

_He certainly is something._

 

 

 

“We’re home!” Marian announced loudly, walking in the door.

“No need to scream. It’s not like the walls are made of iron.” Fenris replied dryly. Marian grinned at him.

“Just giving them warning, is all. Just ‘in case’.” She put finger quotes around it, grinning wickedly. Garrett frowned.

“What?” he asked, but his cousin ignored him.

Fenris just glared at her flatly.

She shrugged.

“You grumpy butts are no fun.” She said with a sigh. Then she paused. “What is that _smell?_ ” She sniffed. “It’s amazing, I want some, whatever it is.” The three of them wandered into the kitchen, only to see the larger pot of uneaten soup sitting on the counter. She frowned. “Now where could the two of them be?” She murmured to herself, and then turned to Garrett and Fenris. “I’m going to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back. Gare, get me some soup!” Then she turned and marched off down the hallway, leaving the two of them standing there alone, staring at each other in confusion.

Ah yes, Marian loved her job. Hooking up her family was just _so much fun,_ and Maker it was _so_ _easy_.

She turned the corner before the bathroom and changed course, walking towards Carver’s room instead, a small smile on her face. She paused outside, knocking gently.

“Hey, you two, I’m coming in and you both better have clothes on.” She said, but her voice was soft.

When she pushed the door open, a grin split her face, and it was rather hard not to let out an excited squeal. The two of them were curled up together, asleep on Carver’s bed – her cousin’s head was nestled against the mage’s neck, and Anders’s cheek was pressed into the boy’s hair. There was a smaller bowl of uneaten soup in Carver’s lap and a now-dry stain on his pants, and a second bowl sitting on the desk nearby. She sighed, and, walking over, gently grabbed the bowl out of Carver’s lap and grabbed Anders’s as well, then turned and left, closing the door softly behind her.

_Ahh, yes._ She thought, grinning happily.

_Score one for Marian._


	14. In which Marian needs to Mind Her Own Business (but doesn't)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> agh i'm going to try to get back to a regular posting schedule i swear! sorry for the wait you guys, my schedule is super busy at the moment and its just been a struggle to get much writing done :P
> 
> ***a little bit of background before you delve into the newest section***  
> If, in dragon age origins, you play as a human noble, you will meet Dairren while in your house - he talks about going to fight at Ostagar. I don't super know what happens to him other than he dies... anyways, bookishTomato and I have a little headcannon that he and Carver were friends (or maybe more than that?) so that plays a somewhat significant role in this chapter and maybe the next one, but probably won't be mentioned too much after that. 
> 
> unless you guys want to hear or see more about Carver and Dairren's time together, in which case i'll gladly indulge you~ 
> 
> so without further ado, here is the next chapter in Carver and Anders' adventures!

“Carverrrr I’m bored!”

“Not my problem.”

“Carverrrrrr!!!”

“Ack, wh… get off!”

“But I’m _bored!”_

“Then find something to do!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know! Read a book, go hang out with Isabela or… you know, do whatever it is the two of you do when you’re together, I don’t care, just leave me alone.”

“Bela’s busy today, otherwise I would totally go for that.”

Carver made a face. “Ugh, must you?” Marian grinned at him mischievously. Then her face lit with excitement as an idea wormed its way into her head.

“Hey! Take me to see Andy!”

Carver paused mid-step across the room, and then turned to glare at his cousin.

“Why?” He asked. Marian was sprawled in the living room chair, arms dangling over the edge of the couch uselessly.

“Because I want to check on him, and because I need to catch up with him, and because I’m _bored_ , and because I have no idea how to get there.” She smiled. “Is that enough reasons?”

He continued to glare at her, and then groaned.

“Fine, _fine._ It’s not like I’m doing anything important.” He glared at the dishes that still had to be done. “It was Garrett’s turn anyways.”

She laughed, and grabbed his arm.

“Sure, whatever. Let’s _go!”_

He sighed and allowed himself to be drug from the room by his elbow, but once they were outside he pulled himself free.

“Fine, come on then.” He took the lead, marching off angrily towards Darktown. She grinned at his back, and ran to catch up.

About half way there, she said, “So what do you think of Andy?”

He paused.

“What?”

“Anders. You know, evil mage apostate healer we’re going to see.” She rolled her eyes, and he glared at her.

“I knew _that._ What do you mean, what do I think of him?”

“It’s not a hard question, Carv.” She replied. “What’s your opinion of him? He’s changed a good bit since I knew him, I just want to compare, that’s all.” He gave her a suspicious look, and then shrugged.

“He’s alright, I guess.” He muttered, staring to walk again. “I don’t know him that well…”

“Really?” She blinked. “You guys seemed to be pretty well acquainted last time I checked.” She watched carefully out of the corner of her eye, and then-

…score, he _was_ blushing. Then again, that wasn’t unusual, but she _knew._

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her cousin muttered, glaring at the road ahead of him.

“I mean I know you’re generally not a touching-type person, and yet three times now I’ve caught you two practically laying on each other, that’s all.” She replied innocently. He flushed even harder, spluttering indignantly as he stopped walking once more.

“Th-that’s not… you’re trying to imply something, aren’t you?” he narrowed his eyes at her, arms crossing. She shrugged, mysterious smile on her face.

“Am I?”

He glared harder.

“What?” She rolled her eyes. “I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Carv,  but I still know you well enough to see this, and I _definitely_ know Andy. There’s something going on between you two.”

“No there’s not.” He replied shortly. “You’re slipping, Mari.” He looked away for a moment, and sighed. “Well, you’re not wrong that he’s interested in _someone._ You might want to reevaluate who think that someone is, though.” She raised an eyebrow. “And as for me… well, there you’re just wrong.”

“Riiiiight…” She nodded. “Sure. And who is this mysterious other person, then?” She asked, noting how Carver’s expression tightened.

“Garrett, of all people.” He replied, turning to walk away again. She chuckled, joining him. “What?” He glared. “It’s ridiculous. Obviously my brother is too stupid to even realize it, of course, and he’s too busy being infatuated with that Maker forsaken _elf._ ”

“Really.” Mari replied flatly. “Because I could have sworn Anders walked all the way across town when _you_ were sick, not Garrett.”

“Garrett hasn’t _been_ sick.” Carver retorted. “You’ve nothing to compare to.”

“Okay. Then I must have been wrong again when I noticed Anders’ eyes followed _you_ around the room, and not your brother, right?” She was grinning. Carver flushed.

“Yes, you must’ve been.” He said shortly. “I’d say ask him, but it’s really _none of your business._ ”

“It _is_ my business.” Marian replied. “One, because he’s my friend and you’re my cousin, and two, I feel an intense obligation to help open the eyes of those who need to pull their heads out of their asses and admit their feelings.”

“I’m… ignoring you, now.” Carver finished with an aggravated sigh. “You’re insufferable. I can’t believe I agreed to go with you.” She laughed.

“Riiiiiight… you know, I have to ask…” She said, “Have you ever been in an actual relationship with someone? I don’t mean the one or two weeks you spent with some girl, I mean like a full-on, _actual_ relationship.”

“That is _also_ none of your business.” He said, and this time his tone was less teasing than before – something darker, hidden in it. She frowned.

“So that’s a no?”

“Look it’s _none of your business,_ Marian, so leave it!” He snapped angrily. Her eyes widened. That wasn’t the usual teasing banter they normally shared.

“Carver.” She said, frowning.

He ignored her.

“Carver, wait.” She put a hand on this shoulder and stopped him.

“I don’t want to talk about it, alright?” He muttered.

“Nope. Not alright.” She replied. “Have you told anyone, ever?”

His silence was all the answer she needed.

“Fine, then. That’s your task. Tell Andy.”

He stared at her.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She nodded in satisfaction. “You need to tell someone, Carv.”

“Whatever you say, Marian.” He replied with a sigh of resignation. “Let’s just go, alright? I’m tired of talking to you.”

She frowned, but nodded. For the next fifteen minutes, they walked in silence – then suddenly her eyes widened.

“Shit!” She cursed. “Carver, my purse! It’s gone!”

“What?” He turned to her, frowning.

“My purse! I brought it with me, but I don’t have it anymore!” She looked back the way they’d come. “It must have fallen off somewhere… Let’s split up and look for it.”

“What?” He repeated. She sighed.

“There’s a good bit of money in it.” She said, voice low. “All that I have, in fact. If it’s gone… I don’t know how I’ll get back to Fereldan.”

“You’re absolutely ridiculous.” He said flatly. “Meet me back here, twenty minutes tops.”

“Yes, sir.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Carv.”

“Whatever.” He flushed, and then turned and marched off back down the street. She watched him go. Then she grinned.

She turned on her heel and started walking.

 

 

“Anders? Knock, knock?”

The mage blinked and looked up at the familiar voice, and then rolled his eyes.

“Door’s open.” he called. Marian’s head poked around the corner, grin in place. “What are you doing here? And how’d you find your way, for that matter?” he asked. She shrugged.

“I got Carver to show me.” She said.

“Carver’s here?” Anders asked, standing up a bit straighter. Marian studied him for a moment, and then broke into amused cackles.

“Maker, Andy, this is really too easy!” she laughed. He raised an eyebrow.

“What are you going on about now?”

“Oh, _please._ ” She huffed. “I’m not blind, Andy. I’m just trying to figure out if _you_ are.” She raised an eyebrow. “To answer your question, however: No, Carver is not here, at least not at the moment. He _was_ , but then I realized I must have dropped my purse on the road somewhere, and we split up to look for it.” She said innocently.

“Mhmm. And the purse?”

She grinned.

“Why Andy, whatever are you implying?”

“Any particular reason you sent him on a goose chase?” He asked.

“Two, actually.” She said, hopping up onto one of the counters. “One, I really did need someone to show me the way here, at least most of the way. Once I got close enough I could feel my way here.”

“And the second? He asked, leaning on the table beside her with his elbow.

“I needed to get you alone to talk for a bit, but I want him to come back here afterwards.” She shrugged. “I’m sneaky, I admit it.”

Anders just kept staring at her.

“Oh, come _on!”_ She rolled her eyes. “The two of you really are ridiculous, you know.”

“Do I even want to ask what you’re talking about?” He sighed.

“You should know already, Andy, I know you’re not stupid. Come on, you and my cousin.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “What’s going on?”

The mage stared at her.

“He… he told you about Garrett?”

She stared back.

“Maker, this is worse than I thought.”

“What?” He frowned. She swung her legs childishly in the air, sighing in exasperation and looking towards the ceiling.

“Not _that_ cousin, stupid.” She said. “My _other_ cousin. _Carver._ ”

“Carver?” Anders frowned. “What about him? He’s a good kid… deserves more than he’s gotten.” He shrugged. “What else?”

“You ran all the way across town because he had a _cold_ , Andy. _You made him soup_. And _then_ I walk in to find you two asleep on each other like-“

“Oh, _that’s_ what you’re going on about.” Anders said, rolling his eyes. “Maker, I didn’t realize you’d seen that.” He sighed. “Look, Mari, I know what you’re getting at, but… you don’t understand.” He shook his head.

“What’s there not to understand?” She shrugged. “You two seem to fit pretty well together, from what I saw.” She grinned at the light flush that came to the healer’s face – it wasn’t often Anders blushed, but she often knew what to say to get him to do so.

“There’s… _circumstances_ , and honestly, I… I don’t know _what_ I feel for _who,_ anymore.”

“Okay, let’s start with the circumstances.” Marian said. “Circumstances like what?”

Anders looked away.

“A lot has changed since I knew you, Marian. That’s all…”

“Bullshit.” She sighed. “But, if you can’t tell me I get it.” She hesitated. “I’ve made more progress with you than with Carver, at least.” Anders frowned.

“What did you say to him? You didn’t try to start anything, did you?” A panicked look came over his face. “Marian, I’m serious. I can’t start anything, with anyone, and… honestly, as of right now, he’s just a good friend, I hadn’t even _considered…_ ”

“I’m not saying get married, Maker, Andy!” She rolled her eyes, hopping off the table. “But at least start considering. For my sake?”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because I want to see both of you happy, and watching you dance around the elephant in the room is killing me slowly.” She replied with a grin. He sighed.

“I don’t know, Marian… it… it won’t work.”

“It might.” She said, leaning over to press a butterfly kiss against his cheek. He flushed, and rolled his eyes. “I’ve gotta go – Carver is expecting me back, probably pissed because he can’t find my money.” She grinned. “We’ll be back.”

“Marian-“

“See ya, Andy!”

And with that, she closed the door behind her. She hummed to herself as she pranced down the steeps, across the street, and right back to the spot where she’d left Carver before – it wasn’t two mintues before he came stalking back, red in the face with fury.

“Carver!” She said brightly, lifting her hand up. Her purse was held in it. “Look, I found it!”

“I _swear on the fucking Maker,_ Marian.” He cursed, glaring at her. “Do you know how far back I went? Where in the void was the stupid thing?”

“Not too far.” She shrugged. “I tried to find you, but you were gone, so I decided to wait here. I didn’t want to get lost, you know.”

“Whatever, let’s just… ugh, let’s just get out of here.” He marched off, and she giggled to herself following after him.

 

“Anders? Knock, knock?”

The Mage grunted to himself, but he couldn’t help the smirk that worked its way onto his face.

“Door’s open.” He replied, same as before. Marian walked in, this time with Carver following close behind her – he looked furious. Anders had to hide his smile, and Marian’s eyes glinted knowingly at him. “What are you two doing here?” he asked, wiping his hands. Marian laughed, and hopped up on the same table she’d been sitting on not twenty minutes before.

“I was _bored_ , and Carver decided to show me the way.” She said.

“I regret all my decisions.” The warrior muttered. She laughed.

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t _that_ bad!”

“Do you know what she did?” Carver demanded. “Oh, Carver, I lost my purse, she says, let’s split up and look for it, she says. I return, and she’s just _standing_ there holding the damned thing!” He ranted.

“Ah, yes. That sounds exactly like her.” Anders replied mildly. Carver fumed, crossing his arms.

“I don’t know why I even agreed to bring her here.”

“Because you _loooooove_ me!”

“Keep dreaming, Marian.”

“Wake up, Carver.” Marian shot back. “Open those _eyes_ of yours.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him. Carver flushed and looked away; Anders frowned.

“Come on, Mari, give him a break.” He said, rolling his eyes. “I know how you can be.”

 _Better than he knows._ He thought, raising an eyebrow at her. She just shrugged innocently, smiling.

“Whatever do you mean, Andy?” She asked lightly.

A moment later, there was a knock on the door.

“Anders?”

It was Bethany.

The healer frowned.

“Door’s open, Bethy.”

She walked in, and her eyes lit. “Oh, Carver! What are you doing here?”

“Ask _her.”_ Carver muttered, gesturing at his cousin. Bethany looked, and then smiled.

“Marian! Thank goodness, I was looking all over for you! Garrett needs you, something about lunch tomorrow? I don’t know what he was talking about, but it sounded urgent.” Marian frowned.

“But I just got here!” She sighed. “Maker. Well, I think I know my way now… I guess I’ll come back tomorrow.” She hopped of the counter. “It was nice seeing you, Andy.” She looked at Carver. “And thanks for taking me here, Carver. See you boys later!”

“Bye!” Bethany said.

The two girls more or less ran out of the room, giggling.

The door closed heavily behind them.

Anders and Carver stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where they’d been not a moment before, shocked. Neither quite knew what’d just happened.

 _Damn her._ Anders thought, slowly realizing it. _She got Bethany to…_

“Maker, she’s a piece of work.” He said with a sigh.

“No kidding.” Carver muttered, crossing his arms. He still hadn’t met Anders’ gaze since he walked in, staring at the floor instead, face tinted pink. _Dammit, Marian._ Anders sighed. _Now look what you’ve done._

It was definitely awkward.

There was a pause.

“You know, I think she did this on purpose.” Carver said eventually. “Half the time I wonder if she’s already possessed by a demon.”

“Don’t joke about that, Carver.” Anders rolled his eyes, and the boy huffed.

“Sorry.” There was a pause, and then he said, “So, what have you been up to, then?”

 _Maker, is this what we’ve resorted to?_ Anders thought. He knew it wasn’t just Marian that’d created this atmosphere… After all, they _had_ woken up together that morning after Carver’s illness, and… they hadn’t exactly talked since. Carver had woken first – Anders was jolted up by the Warrior’s jump of surprise, and then the two of them had leaned away like the other was fire, staring at each other with shock.

Then Carver had muttered something about using the bathroom, and had left without another word.  They’d eaten breakfast with the rest of the Hawke family, but hadn’t really looked at each other the entire time, and Anders had left not long after, not able to bear the tense silence.

Now here it was again, in his own home this time, and the conversation he’d just had with Marian did absolutely nothing to help it. At all.

“Maker.” He muttered. “Not much, really.” He said in reply to Carver’s question. “And you? Are you feeling better?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah.” Carver nodded. “I’m fine, now.”

There was a pause.

“I… think I should probably apologize, actually.” He said, flushing. The words were blurred together, and Anders almost didn’t catch them. He frowned.

“For what?”

“I… never thanked you, I don’t think.” Carver said. “For coming, I mean.”

“Oh.” Anders blinked. “It was nothing… I’m just glad I could help.”

“It was odd, having someone actually take care of me.” Carver shrugged. “But it was nice. Reminded me of when I was younger.” He paused. “Can… I talk to you about something?”

Anders frowned, and then nodded.

“Come on, come sit down.” He said, and Carver followed him back to the ratty brown couch that served as Ander’s bed. They sat, and then the boy sighed.

“Marian… suggested I tell someone.” He shrugged. “I figure, you’re the only person that actually tends to listen to most of what I say, so.”

“I’m always willing to lend an ear.” Anders replied with a grin. “Maker knows you’ve done it for me enough times, right?” Carver rolled his eyes.

“I guess.” Then he paused. “So, what do you know about Ostagar? What happened, and all of that?” Anders frowned.

“Loghain betrayed the Wardens. Pulled his troops out even when the beacon was lit for him to attack.” The mage replied. Carver sighed.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “But we did fight, some. Not all the Darkspawn went to the Wardens, just the main horde. And there were a few battles before that main one, battles that we _won_.” He said. “I was there for nearly five months, training with the king’s soldiers and all of that. I… had a…” he paused. “A friend.” He hesitated. “But he… didn’t make it out of Ostagar. A darkspawn attacked us from behind, stabbed him through the stomach… and I watched him bleed out. Couldn’t do anything…” he sighed.

“Maker, Carver.” Anders murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, now… I mean, he was proud to be there, and he died fighting. He wanted to be a writer, though.” Carver frowned. “Constantly carried this little journal around with him… I-“ He cut off. “I got it for him.”

Anders paused for a minute, thinking everything he’d said through, and then his eyes widened.

“Wait, were… were you and he…?”

Carver flushed, looking away.

“Y-yeah, sort of…” He muttered, bright red in the face. “I never told anyone, though… I don’t know why, it just… never came up.” He sighed.

 _Maker, this all makes so much more sense._ Anders thought. Carver’s aggression when they were pulled out of the fight, making the Commander knock him out to get him to comply… that hadn’t sounded like the level-headed Hawke Anders knew, but he hadn’t really questioned it before. But, if he’d lost someone in that fight, only for the army to just give up… it would make a lot more sense for him to be so angry.

And it made more sense why he hadn’t wanted to leave Lothering, too. Why he’d wanted to say and fight the darkspawn at their house instead of fleeing.

“Oh, Carver, I’m so sorry.” Anders said.

“Yeah.” The boy muttered.

“What was his name?” the mage asked gently.

“Dairren.” Carver replied. “He is – was – from Amarathine.” He sighed. “It’s not important anymore, I just… I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about it recently. Besides, Marian knows how to push all my buttons, and somehow she managed to stumble right on top of that one. So, now you know.”

“Do you still have the journal?” Anders asked. Carver hesitated, and then nodded.

“Yeah. I haven’t read anything, though.”

“Why not?” Anders frowned. Carver shrugged.

“He never wanted me to read it till it was finished, or so he said. And… I don’t know, I just… haven’t… didn’t… ugh, _fine_ , I’m sort of nervous about it, alright?” He shrugged. “Besides, it’s possible the pages aren’t legible anymore – he had it with him when he died, so it’s all. You know… bloody.” He winced. “In all honesty, I haven’t really thought about it in a few months.”

“Maker.” Anders shook his head. “You know, it all seems like it happened so long ago. Living in Fereldan, escaping the circle, helping Tish and Min and the rest of the Wardens… accepting Justice, even.” He sighed. “I’ve only spent a year and a half here, but it already feels like this has just… always been. Isn’t that strange?” Carver sighed.

“I guess so. We got here before you, you know, by a few months. It’s been almost two years.” He sighed, and then frowned. “Satinalia is coming soon, isn’t it? Maker, I nearly forgot.”

“Have you celebrated one since coming to Kirkwall?” Anders asked, raising his eyebrows. Carver scowled.

“Sort of.” He muttered. “Right before we came, we _should_ have celebrated, but there wasn’t much time. And last year… well, Garrett and I had.” He paused, and then sighed. “Work.”

“Meeran, right.” Anders nodded, and frowned. “That bastard make you work through Satinalia?” Carver shrugged.

“Not like we’ve got much to celebrate anyways, or room for it.” He said.

“Bullshit.” Anders shook his head. “Just so you know, that’s not happening this year. I won’t allow it. We’re going to have a proper Satinalia party if it kills me.”

Carver rolled his eyes.

“Seems like a rather trivial thing to die for, magey.” He replied. Anders gasped in mocking hurt.

“Ouch, Carver! How can you disregard the season of Satinalia so easily? I know you had some sort of a childhood with Marian and her siblings, right? Please tell me you celebrated holidays.” Carver blinked at him for a moment, and then sighed.

“Yeah… We did. When I was a kid, we’d have the most insane parties.” He wrinkled his nose. “Mom and dad had lots of friends – some of them apostates, others friends who knew, but no one was ever in danger, the made sure of that – and they’d invite all of them.” He sighed. “Garrett and Marian were always in charge of the rest of us, so we wouldn’t get into things we weren’t supposed to…”

And then a fond smile worked it’s way onto his face.

“Every year, we’d stay up, in the highest room in the house. In a pile, you know, not enough beds for everyone up in the attic. We’d see who could stay awake the longest – Bethy and Garrett were usually the last two, or so they claim.” He rolled his eyes. “I…” he flushed. “I mean, I only went with them because the rest of the house was quiet… it was stupid, staying awake, and I mean, it was…”

“It was cute, Carver, calm down.” Anders laughed, rolling his eyes. “You’re allowed to be cute when you’re little.” He nudged the boy’s arm, and Carver scowled at him, flushing pink.

“Yeah, well, anyways. After Marian’s family left us, it wasn’t much of a party, anymore. Just Garrett and Bethy and me, as far as kids went. We still slept in the attic but it wasn’t…” he sighed. “It wasn’t the same. Then dad died… we haven’t really celebrated much since then.” Anders frowned.

“You mean you haven’t celebrated Satinalia since before you were fifteen?” he asked. Carver shrugged.

“It’s not a big deal.” He sighed.

“It is.” Anders replied, and then grinned. “We’ll do it right, this year. You’ll see.” He nodded firmly. “Big Hawke Christmas party, once again. It’s just around the corner – who knows, maybe Marian will stick around too.” Carver flushed, shaking his head.

“No, we can’t-“

“Hush, it’s happening.” Anders cut him off, putting a hand over his mouth. Carver glared at him over his fingers, and the mage laughed. “Just give up, Carver.” He told him.

Carver flushed harder, and for some reason something… shifted, in the air. They both felt it, he knew they did. For a long moment, neither of them moved, just… stared at each other, silently, unblinkingly.

Anders’s heart thudded in his chest. _Maker._ He cursed. _I’m going insane. Marian can’t be right… not this time, she…_

_She can’t._

He stayed a moment longer, but then his face fell. He removed his hand and turned away, gritting his teeth and hating himself as he did so.

“Anders?” Carver frowned.

“Satinalia, Carver.” The mage replied, smiling but still staring at the ground. “It’ll happen. Trust me.” Then he sighed, and got to his feet. Carver frowned, watching him, but Anders didn’t look back. He didn’t trust himself to. “Do you have any other plans for the day?” The mage asked, walking back to his table.

For a moment the boy didn’t answer. Then he sighed and got to his feet.

His features were closed, and… sort of cold. Something inside of Anders broke at that, and he… he almost… just want to…

“Actually… yeah, mom asked me to do some stuff. Shopping, dishes… that kind of thing. I should probably get home.” Carver muttered. “Sorry about Marian.”

“You don’t have to apologize for her.” Anders replied. “She’s not under anyone’s control but her own.” Carver grunted.

“I guess you’re not wrong about that.” He replied, and then sighed, walking to the door. Anders stood there silently, watching, waiting, waiting for him to be gone, waiting for the door to open…

“Hey, Carver.”

 _Dammit, Anders._ He cursed himself. _What are you doing?_

“Hmm?” The Hawke frowned, turning back around, standing in the exit of the ward. Anders hesitated, and then, steeling his resolve, looked he boy in the eye and smiled.

“Thanks for trusting me.” He said. “With Dairren.” Carver flushed.

“Oh… yeah. Thanks for listening, I guess.” He shrugged, and then turned to go again.

“I think you should read it.” Anders’s voice stopped him. He looked back, frowning hesitantly.

“Really?” He asked, and the mage nodded.

“I know he’d want you to. Read it.” Anders smiled. “If you need anything…” he looked around, and then shrugged. “You know where to find me.”

Carver stared at him a moment. Then he nodded.

And then he was gone.

For a long moment, there was complete silence in the Healer’s home. Then he dropped his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands.

“Maker.” He muttered, confusion swimming in him harder than it had been before, and the metallic taste of regret stinging his tongue. “What am I going to do?”

 


	15. In which Carver gets Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here's the next chapter! 
> 
> Also don't forget to go out bookishTomato and I's new Tumblr page! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/tabletpensandbookends  
> We'll post art and little blurbs of writing from time to time, so check it out if you're interested!
> 
> See you next week, hope you enjoy~

Carver ended up not getting home until late; he stopped at the Tavern on the way home, and if he’d had a few more drinks than usual who was to say?

He needed it, that night. Between Marian, and Dairren, and… and _Anders…_

Ugh, maybe he should have had another one.

He sort of tried not to be too loud while getting home, but thinking was a struggle, and he didn’t really remember much other than half-stumbling to his room and wincing when he closed the door harder than he meant to. Then he flopped on his bed, and let out a heavy, tired sigh.

It was quiet in the room, but his ears were ringing.

He sighed again. Then he sat up.

A frown creased his forehead as he glanced towards the corner of the room.

“I think it’s…” he muttered to himself, getting back up and dragging his feet on the way over to the old chest where he stored what little belongings he’d brought from Fereldan. Dust made him cough when he lifted the lid, and he shook his head to try to clear it, but that made the room spin violently.

“Mhgh.” He groaned, closing his eyes for a moment.

When he reopened them, there was a little brown book in the center of his vision. His heart thumped with anticipation, and he swallowed thickly.

Then he picked it up.

It was old, the cover worn and crusted with blood, the pages stained red where it’d leaked through the sides. It smelled too, and he wrinkled his nose.

“This better be worth it, Dai.” He muttered, and then, after one last second of hesitation, untied the twine that’d held it shut for all those months. The book fell open in his lap; he read the first page.

 

THE ADVENTURES OF A WARRIOR

A NOVEL OF DISCOVERY AND ADVENTURE

 

He wasn’t quite sure why he found that so funny. Maybe because he was drunk, and maybe because it just _fit_ so well, at least with what little he remembered of Dairren. He’d always been one for stories and daydreams.

Carver turned the page.

Then he started to read.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Marian woke suddenly, not quite sure what’d startled her, but knowing _something_ was off. She’d always been a light sleeper – most mages were – but, after the split second of panic had passed, all seemed well and silent. She sighed, and stretched, sitting up and blinking blearily into the middle of the living room.  

Then she heard it again; faint sniffling, like the sound of someone crying. She frowned, and got up, following the sound until she was standing outside of Carver’s room. She hesitated.

Then she knocked gently.

“Carver?” she called, voice soft. There was some surprised shuffling, and then silence. She sighed, and then slowly opened the door.

He was on his bed, an old book clutched in his hands – the room smelled of alcohol and something… old and mildew-y, kind of metallic…

“Is that blood?” She asked suddenly, concerned. He jumped, and bloodshot eyes met hers.

“It’s… not mine.” He shook his head. “It’s on the pages.” He just looked down at the notebook in his lap. She stepped inside and closed the door; then she walked over and sat on the bed next to him. He didn’t protest; she didn’t mention it.

“What is it?” She asked.

“A book.” He replied. “Something someone I knew… a long time ago, wrote.” He sniffed and rubbed his nose. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s fine.” She reached out and began rubbing his back gently; he leaned into the touch. Her eyes widened. “Wow, you get cuddly when you’re drunk?”

He didn’t reply. She frowned.

“Are you ok?” She asked him.

“I don’t know the ending.” He replied. “He never got to finish it.”

 _Oh._ And then it clicked. Anders, the way Carver had acted on the way there, the thing they had talked about… it made sense. _Oh, Carver._ Her expression softened; she kept dragging her palm methodically up and down his spine, over his shoulders. It’s what she used to do, when he was upset as a child – Marian was the only one who used to be able to get him to calm down.

“What kind of story was it?” She asked him. He let out a strained chuckle that turned into a small sob.

“Ha, it…” He took a deep breath, and then turned and dropped his head on her shoulder. “It was a love story.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Carver woke the next morning to the sound of Garrett’s snoring, and there were several heavy things on his arms, and legs, and he tried to shift but couldn’t and what in the _name of the Maker_ _was_ -

He blinked his eyes open in confusion and found both his siblings, plus Marian, all squished onto him and his tiny bed. He stared for a long moment.

“Ok, just how drunk _was_ I?”

“Carver?” Bethany blinked her eyes open, lifting her head off his shoulder. Her eyebrows were lifted in concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, um…” he winced as his head throbbing in the early morning light. “What… is everyone doing in my room?” He kept his voice low; she frowned.

“Marian woke Garrett and I up and said you needed… hugs.” She replied. He stared.

“What?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “You seemed really upset.”

He frowned, trying to remember. Thinking made his head hurt, however, so he soon gave up on it and just dropped his head back down.

“Alright.” He sighed, deciding for once to just… choose acceptance.

Besides, it was… warm. Bethany hesitated, and then gently rested her ear on his shoulder once more. His arm was around her; he didn’t really think about it as he pulled her a bit closer.

There was a pause, and he felt himself dozing off again.

…then another snore broke the room. Carver flinched, and his teeth ground in his mouth as his eyes shot open again.

“Garrett.” He growled. Bethany just sighed.

There was a pause.

And then another snore.

“I swear on the maker-“

“Andraste’s ass, can’t you shut up.” Marian cursed, talking up at him from her spot sprawled across his legs – her head was resting on Garrett’s stomach.

“Tell _Garrett_ that.” He muttered.

“I am.” She replied, opening one eye and grinning at him. Then she sighed. “Ah well, we should all probably be getting up anyways.”

“Mhhgh.” Carver groaned inarticulately and closed his eyes again, wincing against the throbbing behind his eyes.

“Hung over?” Marian asked.

“Lil’ bit.” He replied.

“I’ll get Andy.” She grinned. He shielded his eyes from the light so he could open them just enough to glare at her.

“Screw you, Marian.” He muttered.

“Ah, and he returns!” She cheered. “Grumpy Carver is back!” She nudged his knee. “Not going to lie, Carv, you being all grabby was kind of cute, but also totally weird.”

“Grabby?” he made a face. “I’m not _grabby.”_

“Cuddly?” she offered with a shrug.

He kept glaring.

Garrett snored again.

“Oh, for the _love of-“_ Carver shifted the one free limb he had, kicking Garrett as hard as he could in the thigh. “Garrett, get _up!”_

“Wha… _where?”_ Garrett sat up fast, all his muscle’s tensing. Then he looked around, obviously very confused. “Where… am I?”

“I _know,_ that’s what I said!” Marian agreed. “The door’s always shut, so none of us really know what it looks like on the inside, you know?”

“Shove off.” Carver muttered. “Like, literally. I can’t feel my toes.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Fiiiiine.” She rolled off the bed and got to her feet. “I’m going to go start breakfast.”

Bethany sighed from her place on Carver’s shoulder, and then sat up and stretched sleepily.

“Hold on, I’ll help you.” She said, breaking into a smile.

Bethany always had been a morning person.

Garrett, however, was not.

“Wait, so… _where_ am I?”

“Maker, Garrett.” Carver groaned. “Just get out, go get your bearings or something.” He nudged him with his foot again. Garrett frowned and looked at him.

“Oh, are… you alright?” He asked suddenly, and then smacked his forehead. “Oh, right. Carver’s room.”

“I swear…” Carver sighed. “Sometimes I wonder how you’re still alive, you know.”

“Trust me, I wonder the same thing.” Garrett muttered to himself.

Carver rolled his eyes.

“Yes, well, I’m fine, thank you.” He said in response. “I need to shower, though, and if you start snoring again I think we can both _stop_ wondering how you are alive, as you _won’t_ be.” Garrett sent him a look, and then got to his feet.

“Right, sorry…” he stretched, his back popping several times. He hesitated, sending his little brother another uncertain glance, and then just sighed and walked out of the room. Carver laid there for a moment, and debated just falling back asleep.

Then he groaned and rolled over. His head was pounding and he doubted he’d be able to sleep again even if he tried his best. As he rolled, he felt something hard poking into his side; another annoyed grunt left his throat.

Then he blinked his eyes open, and found a journal on the bed. An old one, something he hadn’t touched in years. He stared at it for a long moment.

“Maker.” He muttered, shaking his head. “Really, though, how drunk _was_ I?”

“You were preeeeetty gone.” Marian’s voice said from the doorway. He looked up to see her watching him carefully, a small smile on her face but understanding in her eyes. “Do you remember anything?”

“Uhm… bits and pieces?” he shrugged. “I remember getting home, at least.” He frowned. “Although, can I ask why you thought bringing Garrett and Bethany in was the best idea?”

She shrugged.

“You needed hugs… more than I could give.” She said. “Plus, that’s the only thing that got you to fall asleep.”

He flushed and dropped his head back down.

“Mmhg…”

“I can send Miles to go get Anders.” Marian offered. “He can help with the headache.”  She paused. “I would, but I’m not that great at healing magic. Physical wounds I can do no problem, but things like colds and headaches and stuff?” She shrugged. “That’s more his specialty.” Carver hesitated.

He wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to see the mage, honestly. The day before had been… awkward at best, when he was leaving, and… He was still pretty confused, by several things, but…

 _Andraste_ his head was killing him. He sighed.

“Fine.”

His heart thudded when he said it.

Marian grinned.

“Sure thing.” Then she turned and wandered back into the main part of the house. Carver laid there for another minute or too, and then finally sat up, wincing in pain and squeezing his eyes shut. After a moment, it subsided at least a little bit – he then looked down at the book on the bed.

He didn’t really want to read it, but he also didn’t really remember much about it, other than that it was about a warrior that had to leave the man he loved behind in order to protect him. He frowned.

“How did it…” He picked it up and flipped to the last page with writing on it.

 

_The warrior raced down the stairs, his heart pounding. The thought of it, of seeing him again… he never thought he would. It’d been so long… so LONG since he’d seen him. He’d traveled the world, had experienced every wonder it had to offer, had been in battles and mighty as the tales of the wisewomen, but this…_

_This was the most exciting moment of his life._

_Down the hallway, through the courtyard, he ran, and then there, the gate, and just behind it was the glimpse of a familiar shade of blond. He shouted a name; the head turned._

_Then the gates opened, and_

 

Carver paused. He flipped the page; it was blank.

“Maker take you, Dai.” He cursed. “Could there _be_ a worse place to stop?”

In a way, it was ironic. They had been so close to the fight that Dairren had always dreamed of writing about, but right when the story was about to be told…

He was killed.

He sighed and let the book fall back onto his lap. Then, grudgingly, he stood, wobbling on his feet as his head throbbed painfully.

“Curses.” He muttered.

He washed his face in the bathroom – he kind of looked like shit, and if his head wasn’t killing him he’d have told Marian to call Miles back right then – and then walked to the kitchen and grabbed a plate stacked high with Marian’s pancakes.

He was halfway through eating them when Anders arrived.

“Hawke, if you _ever_ send that mangy beast to my clinic again-“ he was complaining as soon as the door was open, and Garrett’s hands raised innocently.

“It was _Marian!_ ” He protested. Anders’s glare shifted to her, and his mouth opened, but then he stopped, catching sight of Carver. Instantly he melted into a concerned frown. “What in the void happened to you?”

“Thanks.” Carver muttered. Anders rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him, shrugging off the jacket he’d been wearing – it was starting to get colder outside, and having to walk everywhere was sometimes aggressively inconvenient.

“It’s been a long night.” Marian shrugged. “Pancakes?”

“Could I say no?” Anders grinned.

“Could you please stop my head from exploding first?” Carver winced, grabbing his forehead. Anders frowned.

“Maker, Carver, what _did_ you do?” He asked in concerned, discarding the coat over the back of the couch and walking quickly to the kitchen.

“He drank wayyyy to much.” Marian replied. “And now is paying for it.”

That got Anders to pause, looking at the disheveled boy before him and then thinking of the conversation they’d had the day previous.

It wasn’t too hard to put two and two together.

He sighed.

“Come on.” He said, motioning him towards the room. Carver frowned.

“Do I have to move?” he grumbled, but got to his feet anyways and followed groggily as the mage led him to his room, sitting heavily on the bed when Anders gestured for him to do so. Then there was a pause.

“Did you read it?” Anders asked quietly. Carver flinched; then he shifted awkwardly.

“Um… yeah.” He grunted. “It was alright. He didn’t finish it, though.” He frowned in annoyance. “The cutoff point was shit.” He glanced over at the little book sitting on the bed still and sighed. “I have to wash all these sheets now…”

Anders sighed.

“You know you could get very sick from touching someone else’s blood, right?” he said disapprovingly. Carver glared at him.

“You’re the one who told me to read it.” He muttered. “Besides, I didn’t really think about it at the time.”

“Yes, you were too drunk for that, apparently.” Anders chided. Carver huffed but didn’t deny it – the mage rolled his eyes. “Come on, lay down before you get sick, and I’ll see what I can do.” The boy didn’t bother to argue, instead just falling sideways onto the pillows. Anders chuckled.

“What?” Carver flushed, twisting to glare up at him. Anders just shook his head.

“Nothing, Carver. Sit still.” Then his hands began to glow green.

It wasn’t as cold as before, or maybe he was just expecting it this time, but either way it was more of a soothing cold than a biting one, and Carver couldn’t help but sigh appreciatively. He thought he heard Anders laugh again, but didn’t care enough to protest – the pounding in his head slowly started to die away, and the nausea was almost completely gone.

“Maker, Carver, why are you so tense?” Anders muttered.

“I’m not.” He mumbled back. The healer scoffed.

“I can literally feel the balled-up tension in your muscles.” He replied, rolling his eyes. “Come on, _relax.”_

It took Carver a second to realize what was going on, and by the time he did he’d decided it felt way too good to even bother trying to stop it – Maker take him, but the mage’s hands kneading into the muscles of his neck and upper back felt _amazing._

He dropped his face into the pillows and let out a low moan.

Above him, Anders flushed, stopping abruptly.

There was a long pause that seemed so quiet it was loud. Then Carver frowned and twisted to look over his shoulder. “Why’d you stop?”

Anders blinked.

“I… nothing.” He shook his head. Then he started up his task again, although… something had shifted in the air, a kind of electricity that he wished would just _go away,_ because this was _Carver_ and…

Carver exhaled into the pillow again.

Anders flushed and kept going.

At least it was working – the more he massaged the looser the muscles felt, until finally he was satisfied enough to stop (plus his hands were cramping) and nodded in affirmation.

“There. How’s that?”

There was silence below him. He frowned and leaned sideways to try to see Carver’s face, only to realize that at some point in the last twenty minutes…

Carver had fallen asleep.

“Maker.” He grumbled. “What is it with these Hawkes and their sleep habits?”

Still, his expression was fond. He knew it was, and yet he couldn’t stop. Carver looked peaceful when he was sleeping – the tension in his eyebrows all but gone. He sighed, and gave the boy’s shoulder a little pat. His fingers tingled where they made contact; he inhaled slowly, and then exhaled half that speed.

“Sleep well, Carver.” He murmured. Then he got up and wandered back to the kitchen, shaking his head as he did so.

“Alright, Marian.” He grinned, grabbing a plate and trying to shake the image out of his mind. “Let me try some of those famous pancakes.”

 


	16. In Which Anders Keeps His Promise of a Winter Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so its been a while since I've posted - life got crazy for a while, and writing/posting just wasn't feasible - but with the end of the school year will hopefully come more updates! 
> 
> This was started during Winter Break, but I didn't finish it until recently... so it's Christmas themed! Or as Carver and Anders would call it, Satinalia. 
> 
> For a break from the angst and sadness, here are a few chapters that will hopefully make you smile... I know I did while writing them!

“Carver!” someone pounded on his door. “Carver, get up.” He groaned and rolled over, shoving his blanket over his head. There was a sigh. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The voice teased, seconds before the door was opened and clawed feet scrabbled on the ground. Carver’s eyes shot open and he went to sit up, but due to the sheets over his head and the paws already prepping the jump onto the bed, his attempt merely ended with him falling sideways into the wall, cursing loudly. Miles, even more excited at the sound of his target’s voice, leapt valiantly up and began grabbing at the blankets with his teeth, pulling them off the disheveled Hawke.

“Ack, wh… _Marian!”_   He cursed again, trying to ward off the tongue darting towards his face. There was a chorus of laughter, and he looked over to see Bethany, Anders, and Merrill standing in the doorway as well.

His face reddened and he paused.

Miles, unwilling to waste the opportunity, dragged his tongue up the side of Carver’s face, making his hair stand on end even worse than before.

_“Fucking_ -“ he whipped his glare to the Mabari. “Get. Off.” he growled, staring the animal dead in the eyes. Miles tiled his head and gave a little woof of confusion. “Miles. _Off._ ” he tried again, pointing at the ground for emphasis. The dog looked at his hand, and then back at him, innocent confusion in his eyes. “Andraste’s ass, Miles, I swear on the Maker-“ he broke out, shoving at the animal’s chest. Anders whistled.

“Mari, have mercy.” he chided. “No one deserves to wake up to _that.”_

“Even Templars?” She grinned, and Bethany rolled her eyes. Anders shrugged.

“I don’t know if I’d go _that_ far…”

“Marian get this dog _off of my bed_ -“

“Miles! Here boy!” Marian laughed, clapping her hands. Instantly Miles was off the bed and across the room, head in her palms. Carver finally sat up, wiping the spit off his face while glaring at all those gathered in his doorway. Bethany giggled behind her hand; Anders looked somewhere between uncomfortable and amused, shifting awkwardly with a pink tint to his cheeks; Marian just grinned at him.

“Moooooorning!” She cheered. He glared at her.

“Fuck you.” He glared, swinging his legs out from over the bed and grabbing the shirt draped over the headboard.

“Aww, Carv, don’t be that way!” She pouted. He tried to push past her, but her arms wrapped around his shoulders with an iron grip and her chin rested on his shoulder. “I did _try_ to wake you.”

He took a deep breath.

“Marian, I sw-“

“Come on, Mari, let him go.” Anders said, nudging her. “That’s enough pranking for one morning, yeah?”

She pouted at him.

“Aw, but grumpy Carver amuses me.” she protested. He rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I know, but that’s rude.” he chided, and she sighed.

“Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.” She released her arms reluctantly. “I guess you’re right.” Carver glared at her and adjusted his shirt, and the stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door. There was a pause. “Eh.” Marian shrugged. “He’ll be fine.”

Anders rolled his eyes.

“Was that really necessary?” He muttered.

“You got to see him shirtless.” She replied just as quietly, giving him a little wink as she waltzed past into the kitchen. He froze, spluttering for a moment. Bethany frowned.

“You okay, Anders?” She asked. He blinked.

“I’m… yeah, I’m fine.” He shook his head. “Your cousin is…”

“Something, yeah.” She laughed. Merill blinked.

“Is Carver alright?” she asked, concerned. Bethany smiled and grabbed her hand.

“He’s fine, he’s always like this in the mornings.” She rolled her eyes and dragged her towards the kitchen. “Come on, Mari’s making breakfast!”

Anders watched them go, frowning in confusion.

Were they…?

His thought was cut off by the bathroom door reopening, however, and he turned to see Carver walking out, still grumpy but perhaps a bit more awake.

“Good morning.” he grinned. Carver narrowed his eyes at him.

“Hope you enjoyed the show.” he muttered, trying to go past him again. Anders frowned, grabbing his arm.

“What?” He asked. “Carver, hey, slow down… are you alright?” Carver sighed.

“I’m fine, just…” he shook his head. “Garrett stuff.” he waved his hand in the direction of his brother’s bedroom door. Anders frowned.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” Carver muttered, pulling his arm free. “I’m going to go change, I’ll be right back.” And with that, he stalked back into his room, closing the door once more. Anders blinked after him, confused and kind of concerned.

A moment later, Garrett’s door opened, and he walked out with his robe tied around his waist, looking far grumpier than Garrett should ever look.

“Garrett?” he questioned. The Hawke blinked.

“Anders? What are you doing here?”

“Merill and I had something to tell you, but…” he frowned. “What’s going on with you and Carver?”

Garrett paused a moment, and then sighed, slouching against the wall.

“We fought the other day.” he said. “Mother was upset… well, we all were, and everyone said things they didn’t mean.” He shrugged. “Everyone else apologized, but he…” he shook his head. “I don’t know what he wants from me, Anders.” he sighed. “I’m doing the best I can-“

He was cut off by the door opening and Carver reappearing – the younger Hawke paused and looked between the two of them; then his eyes focused on Anders, gaze cold with something like betrayal swimming behind it.

He pushed between them without a word.

“Carver.” Garrett tried, but his brother ignored him. He looked at Anders hopelessly; Anders shook his head.

“I’ll talk to him, don’t worry about it.” he said. Garrett blinked.

“Really?” he asked. Anders nodded.

“Yeah. Now come on, breakfast will be cold and your cousin will scold me for distracting you.” Garrett chuckled and pushed off the wall, and then led the way into the kitchen where the others were already gathered about, plates holding one or two golden pancakes. Anders took a deep breath.

“Maker, I miss that smell in the morning.” He said, and Marian winked at him from across the room.

“I miss actual kitchens I can cook in.” she replied. “Grab a plate.” He did as he was asked and watched as Marian plopped two golden circles on it, and then wandered into the living room after the others - Leandra was in her armchair; Bethany, on the floor against the wall with Merill; Garrett was in the other armchair, and Carver was on the couch.

His eyes met the younger Hawke’s, and for a second they just stared at each other. Then Carver shrugged and shifted to the left a little bit. Anders decided that was as good of an invitation as any, and sat down next to him, shifting so his plate was resting on his legs.

“Marian was the best cook in the circle.” He said. Carver grunted.

“She always has been… decent enough at it.” he muttered in agreement, offering a little shrug.  Anders chuckled, and picked up his fork.

Twenty or so minutes later, after everyone had eaten and the dishes had been collected, he clapped his hands.

“Right!” he said brightly, gaze meeting Merrill’s. “Merrill and I have something we’d like to announce.” She blinked in surprise.

“We do?” She asked.

There was a pause. Then her eyes widened.

“Oh!” she said, face splitting in a brilliant smile. “Yes, we do!”

“What’s this about?” Garret asked, chuckling as he watched her bounce excitedly.

“As we all know, it’s getting a good bit chillier outside as of late.” Anders said. “And cold weather means something big is coming…”

“Satinalia!” Merrill interjected, throwing her arms wide. Again there was a pause, but this one was more stunned than confused. She frowned. “I thought you all would be more excited about it?”

“What? Oh, it’s just…” Garrett was looking at Marian, eyes wide. “I honestly had forgotten about it.”

“Well, not this year.” Anders grinned. “We’re going to have a proper Satinalia party and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” His eyes met Carver’s, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the younger Hawke’s face. He shrugged innocently – Carver rolled his eyes.

Marian looked between them with a raised eyebrow. Then she broke into a grin.

“I think it’s a great idea!” she said. “Just what you lot need this time of year.” She smiled at Leandra. “We can cook all the dishes we used to, yeah Aunt Leandra?”

“Oh, certainly.” She nodded happily, a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there in weeks. “But where would we have it?” She sighed, a bit of that light fading away. “If we had the estate, then maybe, but…”

“Don’t worry about that, we’ve decided Fenris’s place is big enough!” Merrill replied brightly. Garrett frowned, and Carver raised an eyebrow.

“Did you _ask_ him, perchance?” He muttered.

Anders grinned wickedly at him.

“So that’s a no.”

“We both know he’d never agree if either one of us tried.” Anders replied lightly. “But if _Garrett_ asks him…”

Carver almost choked on his blueberries.

Anders couldn’t help but laugh, patting his shoulder heartily as he coughed – Marian sent him a _look_. He chose to ignore her.

“Oh, I’ve already got so many ideas.” Merrill beamed.

“Glad _somebody_ does.” Carver muttered, wiping whipped cream off of his cheek. Anders glanced at him – he was blushing, and scowling, nothing new there, but… he did look happier, somehow. That little crinkle between his eyebrows, the slight spark in his eyes… Anders nodded in satisfaction.

Then he glanced at Garrett, who… honestly looked kind of terrified. He was grinning too, and sharing an excited glance with Bethany, but Anders could practically see the ‘I have no idea what to get anyone’ scream running through his mind like a stampede. He broke into an amused chuckle, shaking his head.

“Well, either way it’s going to happen.” He said firmly. “I won’t let the winter pass without it.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I have no idea what to get anyone!”

“Calm down, Gare.” Bethany laughed, nudging his arm. “That’s why you’ve got _us_.” She shared a grin with Marian. He looked between the two of them, something like hopelessness mixed with suspicion on his face.

“Trust me.” His cousin said sweetly. “This is going to be fun.” Then she grabbed his arm and dragged him into the market.

Maker, but there were _so many people._

“Alright, where to first?” Bethany asked.

“We need to get Garrett started.” Marian replied. “Otherwise he’ll be out all night the day before, when everything is already gone.”

“Hey!” Garrett protested. She grinned.

“I only speak the truth, dear cousin.” She turned back to Bethany. “And Aunt Leandra needed cooking supplies, too.” Then her eyes lit on a stand a few feet away. “Ooh, Bethy, look! Those would be good for that thing we were going to do, right?” Bethany glanced over and then broke into a smile.

“Oh, perfect!” She turned to her brother. “Gare, I need you to head to the cooking isle, alright?”

“Wh-what?” He squeaked.

“Butter, sugar, eggs, flour. You can do it, Garebear.” She smiled at him excitedly.

“Now shoo so we can go shopping.” Marian commanded. “We’ll be back in ten minutes, tops.” Garrett narrowed his eyes.

“For some reason I don’t believe you.” He sighed, and turned away. The girls just laughed and didn’t reply; he started wandering in the way Bethany had vaguely gestured to, not really sure where he was going (but that really was nothing new).

Fifteen minutes later, he _finally_ found the kitchen area. Turns out Bethany had been pointing to the opposite side of the market from where he needed to be.

On the bright side, he thought he’d found two presents. While wandering closer to the food isle, he’d passed two little statues on one of the table – one a dog, the other a cat. If there’d been two, he might have gotten the dog for himself as well…

It _was_ pretty cute.

And if he were to be honest, part of the reason it took him so long to reach the food was that he spent several minutes debating whether or not to get them. Eventually he caved in – they weren’t overly expensive, and _Maker_ but they really were adorable.

Garrett was secretly a huge softie for cute animals.

Or maybe not so secretly, after all.

“Gare!” He turned at the sound of Bethany’s voice, spotting her and Marian walking towards him, each carrying a bag. He frowned.

“What all did you two even get?” He asked.

“It’s a _surprise,_ Garrett.” Marian rolled her eyes.

“Did you get the supplies? Bethany laughed, cutting in. He frowned.

“I think so?” He looked in his bag. “There were different kinds of each, but I think I got the ones that are usually in the house.”

“Perfect.” She nodded. “Alright, now for your presents.” She paused. “Hmm…”

“Let’s just wander around, and see what we find.” Marian shrugged. “Shouldn’t take too long.”

Three hours later, Garrett felt like his feet were about to fall off – and that was saying something. He walked _a lot_ , and yet somehow, shopping with his sister and Marian was still exhausting. They had, however, managed to find presents for almost everyone on his list – minus the two girls themselves, that is, and also Varric, because no one really knew what to get a dwarf who had everything, or at least ways to _get_ everything.

He was pretty pleased with what they’d found, though.

Isabella’s was the first one they’d grabbed – Marian saw it and had started squealing. Garrett wasn’t quite sure why, until she’d explained: there was a knickknacks  table, and on the front stand was a Rivanian fertility charm. On it was a nude woman and some flowers.

“Oh, yes.” Marian grinned, paying for it immediately. “This is perfect.”

And honestly, Garrett couldn’t help but agree.

The next one was for Merrill, and while getting that one he actually had an idea for something for Marian – her being there, of course, dissuaded him from buying it outright. They were passing an elvish jewelry stand, and in one of the back cases there was a very old, and kind of simple, but very pretty Dalish ring. He actually found that one himself, thank you, spotting it in the back while the other two gawked over the necklaces in the front.

“Hey, um… Bethy?” He called.

“Garrett, this stuff is so _pretty…_ Did you find something?” She popped over, and he flushed, pointing at the ring. Her eyes widened.

“For Merrill.” She said, smile softening.

“Yeah.” He agreed, and she picked it up. Then she looked back to him and nodded in excitement.  “It’s perfect.”

The last gift was the hardest, and one he was least sure about… but it was also his favorite. They were about to leave, actually, when Bethany had gotten distracted by an artist’s stand – while there, again he’d stuck to the back, admiring the paintings on the wall, when something caught his eye – it was a book, not too thick but kind of tall and wide. He picked it up and read the cover: THEDAS FROM A BIRD’S EYES.

Then he opened to the first page, and his eyes widened.

These paintings were a different style, but they were _gorgeous._ Each was a different scene, from high above and looking down – some were landscapes, others were towns, with people milling about. Some were of wars, and others of laughter. And each one made his heart twinge with emotion.

“Those are one of a kind.” A voice said. Garrett turned to face an older man, with wrinkled skin and grey hair. “A time of my travels…” he smiled.

“They’re beautiful.” Garrett said. The man nodded his thanks. Garrett hesitated; then he asked, “Um… are you selling this?”

“It’s in the stand.” The man shrugged. “And all I ask is that my paintings go somewhere where they will be treasured, and I can tell.” The man nodded. “The look on your face shows that I don’t have to worry.” Then he chuckled, looking over Garrett’s shoulder at the little book. “It’s funny that you picked that one up… I was going to get rid of it, since no one ever seemed interested.”

“Get rid of it?” Garrett gasped. “But they’re amazing!”

“They’re crude.” The man shrugged. “From when I was younger, and much less experienced.” Then he smiled again. “But if you like them, you may have them.”

“For how much?” Garrett asked. The man paused, and then shrugged.

“Whatever you are willing to give.” He said.

Damn, Garrett hated when they said that. He opened his coin bag, counted what he had – then he nodded and reached inside, grabbing a gold piece and two silvers.

“Thank you.” He said. The man’s eyes widened.

“This is…!” 

“Thank you.” He repeated, smiling. “And I hope you have a very happy Satinalia.” Then he turned and walked back to where the girls were waiting.

“What did you buy?” Marian frowned. “That took you a while.”

“I was having a conversation!” Garrett defended. “Besides, it’s… it’s worth it.” He held out the book. “See?”

Bethany took it and flipped through a few of the pages, Marian peering over her shoulder. Neither of them said anything for a while; then Bethany smiled and handed it back.

“They’re pretty, Gare.” She said.

“But who’s it for?” Marian frowned. Garrett hesitated, and then turned bright red.

“Uh…” He took it back, and then looked at the cover again, dragging his fingers lightly over the surface. “Um…  Fenris.” He mumbled.

“What?” Bethany asked, not hearing him in the din of the market. He sighed, and then looked back at them, and cleared his throat.

“The book.” He replied, and a little smile joined the flush on his cheeks. “It’s for Fenris.”


	17. In Which Carver Gets a Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh Carver, christmas gifts are hard, I understand... not to worry, Anders is coming to the rescue! 
> 
> i hope you enjoy the newest chapter of their Satinalia Adventures, and have a great week!!!

“I need help.”

Anders looked up in surprise from where he was standing at his table, cutting twine into long strands. Carver stood in the doorway, flushing brightly and avoiding his eyes.

“What?” Anders frowned. “Are you alright?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah.” Carver nodded. “I just… this whole gift thing, I don’t know what to do.” He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “I keep trying to come up with something, but…” he shrugged.

Anders paused a moment.

Then he started to laugh.

Carver flushed an even deeper red, looking rather embarrassed as he took a step backwards. “It’s not funny!” He protested.

“I’m sorry.” Anders half-heartedly apologized, shaking his head. “I can’t help it…” He kept chuckling, putting down the knife he’d been using. “I suppose I could try to help, but when it comes to gifts it really has to come from _you.”_

“I know that.” Carver flushed. “But I don’t have _any idea_ what to get _any one.”_

“Come here.” Anders gestured him over. “This couch is at least slightly more comfortable than it looks, at least.” He sat down and pat the cushions next to him. Carver hesitated, and then sighed in defeat and did as he was told. “Good.” Anders nodded. “Hmm…” he templed his fingers and rested his elbows on his knees.

“What are you giving?” Carver asked. Anders covered his mouth in mock horror.

“Carver!” he gasped. “I could never _tell_ you! It’s a _surprise!”_

Carver glared at him.

“Fine, then. Be that way.” He muttered.

“I will, thank you.” Anders retorted. “Besides, my gifts aren’t the problem here, yours are.” He paused. “Do you have _any_ ideas? Even ones you think are dumb?”

“No.” Carver replied shortly. Anders raised an eyebrow.

“Really.”

“Yeah.”

“You know, for some reason I don’t entirely believe you.”

“I…” Carver paused. “Thought about… uhm, making stuff.”

There was a pause. Anders raised an eyebrow.

“Could you be a bit more specific?” He asked. Carver glared at him. Then he groaned, looking away and flushing bright pink.

“I don’t know.” He replied. “I’ve… always been good with, uhm. Wood stuff. Making things, putting stuff together… carvings.”

There was another pause.

Then Anders broke into a smile.

“Carver, that’s perfect.” He replied. “Its something from you, that you made special.”

“You’re not going to joke about it?” Carver asked dryly. Anders grinned.

“Do you want me to?” He replied. Carver glared at him and didn’t reply. “Besides, it’s a good idea.”

“Well, maybe it would be.” Carver sighed. “But I don’t have any tools, anyways.” His fist clenched at his side. “I… had a set, in the Ferelden house, but I didn’t get to grab it before we had to run.”

“Oh.” Anders replied softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Carver’s voice was tight. “They were… my dad’s, actually, but… it’s fine.” He shrugged. “They were just a few cheap knives.”

“They were special.” Anders said. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” He put a hand on Carver’s shoulder. “I am sorry, Carver.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “But that brings me back to square one – I still have no ideas, aside from that, which is impossible.”

Anders frowned thoughtfully, but even after a minute had passed neither of them had any new ideas to offer. Carver groaned.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He muttered.

“It’s going to be fine.” Anders promised. “We’ll think of something.”

Carver gave him a weird look for a moment, cheeks tinted pink, and he wasn’t quite sure why but it made his fingers tingle slightly for a moment, like a wave of electricity sparking through him. Then the expression was gone, and instead the younger man was just sighing and started to get to his feet.

“What, leaving so soon?” Anders asked. Carver shrugged.

“You seemed busy.” He replied. The mage shook his head.

“Not really. I was just waiting for Isabella to show up – she wanted to go shopping together with a group, or something.”  He sighed. “I think she said something about muscle shirts for Fenris.” He made a face, and Carver copied it.

“Why did she want you to come along for that?” He asked.

“Maker only knows.” Anders shrugged.

“Why did you agree?”

Anders raised an eyebrow.

“This is Isabela we’re talking about.” He stated, and then grinned as a smile twitched at the Hawke’s lips. “She wouldn’t _let_ me say no.”

 “Helloooooooo!”

Both of them jumped as a loud knock came from the door, accompanied by Isabella’s voice. Carver sighed, and Anders chuckled.

“Speak of the Devil and she shall appear…” He muttered, getting up and walking to the door. Behind it stood Isabella, Varric, and Merrill, the former grinning mischievously and the latter two trapped in a conversation about… swords?

“What are you two up to?” He asked with narrowed eyes, peering past Isabela. Varric looked at him and shrugged.

“Just imparting some of my years of wisdom.” He replied nonchalantly.

“Come on, you, it’s time to go shopping!” Isabella marched in, grabbing his arm.

Then she caught sight of Carver. Instantly her expression slipped into curious mischievousness, and he flushed.

“Carver!” Merrill said brightly, also noticing him. “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, what _are_ you doing here?” Isabella grinned. He glared at her and crossed his arms with a huff.

“Why do you care?” he muttered.

“You should come with us!” Merrill exclaimed. “We’re going to the market again.” She frowned. “I broke my knitting needles…”

“You got them last week!” Anders raised his eyebrows, and she sighed.

“I know, it's so sad, isn’t it?”

“I think I’ll pass.” Carver said in response to her offer. “Mom needs me to do some stuff, so as fun as it sounds…” He offered dryly.

Anders rolled his eyes at him over Isabella’s shoulder; he flushed and looked stubbornly away.

“Aw, alright.” Merrill frowned sadly. “Maybe at some other time, then.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Carver agreed. Isabella narrowed her eyes at him.

“How goes the gift hunt then, hmm?” She asked.

“Wha… uhm, pretty well, if you must know.” He huffed, turning tomato red. She smirked at him knowingly; he grunted and pushed past her to stand outside the cave. “Anyways, I was about to leave, so… have fun, I guess.” Anders chuckled, watching him cross the cavern with an amused smile.

Right before he started to walk out the door, Carver met his gaze.

“See you later.” He muttered. Then he was off, walking down the path towards his house. Anders swallowed; Isabella cackled.

“Ohhhh, you two.” She shook her head. “Marian was right.”

“Right about what?” Merrill frowned.

“Don’t worry about it, Daisy.” Varric grinned.

Anders looked between the three of them, ears tinted pink.

“Are we going to go shopping or not?” He grumbled eventually, causing Isabella to break into another fit of giggles. He ignored her, grabbing his bag and then marching out the door.

He could still see Carver, making his way down the stairs not too far away.

“Come on, lover boy.” Isabella grinned from his shoulder, and he glared at her. She just kept smiling, a wicked glint in her eyes. “Let’s go get some presents, shall we?”   

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Carver?” Anders called across the tavern to where the younger Hawke was standing, a beer in his hand, talking to Marian and Bethany. Golden eyes met his, and he waved him over. Excusing himself from the table, Carver made his way over to where Anders was standing, frowning in concern.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. Anders shook his head, smiling slightly.

“Nothing, I just… have something for you. Come on, follow me.” He turned and led the confused man to one of the back rooms, closing the door behind them and walking to the dresser, where he’d hidden his gift before bringing Carver upstairs.

“Anders, what’s going… what is that?” Carver stopped, staring at the package in Anders’s hands. The mage grinned.

“Call it an early gift.” He said. Carver frowned.

“I… don’t understand.” He said. Anders rolled his eyes.

“Just _open_ it, Carver.” He huffed. The boy flushed, and then reached out and took it. It was rectangular and about the size of an average cutting board, and about two inches thick. It was heavy, too. He frowned and sat in one of the couches, and then looked up one last time, uncertain. Anders nodded him forwards however, and so, with a sigh, he tore into the paper covering it, frowning in concentration.

When the entire object was revealed, he just sat there, staring at it.

It was a box made of dark, solid oak wood, with two clasps on either side holding it shut. It was clearly old and used, but still in good condition, and looked like it’d recently been sanded and polished. Carver knew what it was before he even opened it; he swallowed thickly as he did so.

Inside was a set of twelve different knives, each with a different blade at the top, and of all different sizes. The handles were made from the same dark wood as the box, and the blades shone sharply in the light of the room.

“I found it while I was out the other day with Isabella.” Anders said. “A guy was trying to sell it so he could buy gifts of his own, and he _did_ give me a discount, before you start worrying about the price.” He smiled, watching Carver’s incredulous expression.

“These are… and you… you just _happened_ to find them?” Carver spluttered, raising an eyebrow at him. Anders shrugged innocently.

“We were passing by and they caught my attention.” He said evasively.

“Right…” Carver rolled his eyes.

Then he closed the lid, and set the box aside. Anders frowned.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Carver stared at him a moment; then he got to his feet, crossed the room, and threw his arms around the Mage.

“Thank you.” He said, simple and short. Anders blinked in surprise for a moment, and then chuckled, letting his arms fold around the Hawke’s middle.

“You’re welcome.” He said. “I’m glad you like it.”

Carver didn’t reply, just buried his face deeper in the feathers on Anders’s coat. The mage raised an eyebrow, pulling back slightly.

“Carver, how much have you had to drink?” he asked, bemused. Carver flushed and pulled away quickly; the mage almost regretted saying anything.

“I… don’t know, not a lot.” The Hawke muttered. “Why?”

“Because you get all cuddly when you’re tipsy.” The mage teased, and then paused. Both of them did, actually, the silence in the room stretching out for a long moment. Carver’s face was tomato red; Anders’s eyes were wide, slightly afraid of what his reaction would be. Eventually, though, Carver just huffed.

“I do _not.”_ He protested. “That’s what Marian said too.”

“Because its true!” Anders grinned, relaxing again.

“Is not.” Carver mumbled, glaring at him. Anders rolled his eyes.

“You’re also poutier, did you know that?”

Carver’s glare intensified, and Anders laughed. Then the Hawke sighed, and slipped into what could almost be a smile.

“Whatever.” He conceded. “Thank you, still.” He affirmed, more seriously. Anders nodded, smiling.

“You’re welcome, Carver.” He replied, and then grinned. “I’ll be expecting only the best, you know.”

“Shove off.” Carver nudged the mage’s shoulder, but he was definitely smiling now. “It’s been a while… I’m going to need some practice.”

“Well, you’ve got about three weeks.” Anders said, and the Hawke’s smile instantly slipped into a frown.

“Agh… I didn’t think about that.” He muttered. “I’ve got to come up with designs and get wood and… shit, I’ve gotta go.” He said, shoving his beer in Anders’s hands and walking back to the bed to grab the case. “I gotta get supplies, and-“

“Ah, ah… you are _not_ allowed to handle knives in your condition.” Anders shook his head, taking the wooden box from him and setting the beer on a nearby table. “I’ll give them back tomorrow, when you’re sober… and as a medic I highly recommend you stay until someone can walk home with you and get rest, and then go and find things in the morning.”

“Mmm…” Carver pouted. “Fine, I guess.” He paused. Then, rather abruptly, he asked, “Will you come with me?”

Anders blinked.

“I… sure, yeah.” He said.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Carver flushed, ducking his head. Anders chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, no, I’d love to come.” He said. “I just didn’t expect you to ask.”

“Oh. Uhm… okay, then. Thanks.” Carver cleared his throat. “I should… get back to Marian, she was telling us something about Ameli and Kat and having kids?” he frowned. “Then again maybe I don’t want to know.” Anders laughed, shaking his head.

“Alright, go on.” He opened the door again, and Carver sighed, reaching for his beer. Anders frowned, grabbing his hand before he could.

“Don’t drink too much more, Carver.” He chided in concern.

“ ‘m fine.” Carver shrugged. “Probably go home soon anyways.” Anders just sighed.

“Alright.” He said, letting go. “Just be careful, won’t you?”

“Mmm.” Carver nodded, grabbing his drink again. “Thanks again, for… you know.” He flushed, meeting Anders’s gaze for a split second before rushing out the door and disappearing down the hallway.

That split second lingered in Anders’s mind as he watched him go, a smile on his lips, the comforting weight of the carving kit still resting in his hands.


	18. In which Carver and Anders go Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's almost Satinalia for our little mess of dorks - just a few more things they need before all the gifts can be complete! 
> 
> Hope you guys are having great summers, and enjoy the newest chapter!!!

“Mmng… my head hurts.”

“I _told_ you not to drink to much.” Anders rolled his eyes, but he was grinning.

“I didn’t!” Carver protested. “There’s clouds, its about to rain, the _weather_ gives me headaches.” He argued. Anders nodded along innocently.

“Ah, yes, I see.” He agreed easily. Carver huffed, arms crossed, and Anders laughed. “Do you want me to help?”

“S-sure.” Carver grunted. “Only because I don’t want to hear you complain about me being too dumb to let you…” Anders rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes, come here.” He chuckled, hand shimmering green. Carver grunted; then he walked across the clinic to where the mage was standing and closed his eyes. Seconds later the usual minty smell and cold tingling sensation passed over his face; he sighed as the dull throbbing behind his eyes died away until it was completely gone.

Even after the mint dissipated through the air, he could still feel the chill of Anders’s palm near his face, and frowned.

Then he felt fingers card through his hair for a moment; he blinked his eyes open in confusion, only to see Anders’s tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration as he made a futile effort to tame one of the many cowlicks in the Hawke’s brown halo.

“Give it up. There’s no use.” He muttered, flushing. “Mother stopped trying over 10 years ago.” Anders paused; then he grinned.

“It was worth a shot.” He shrugged, finally pulling his hand back.

Everything seemed… really, _really_ warm for a moment or two, now that the chill from the mage’s hand was gone. Carver made a face; Anders laughed.

“What?”

“Nothing.” The boy flushed.

“Right.” Anders grinned. “Well, I’m ready when you are – turns out I need some supplies, too, as long as you don’t mind wandering for a little while.” Carver frowned.

“Sure, but wandering for what?”

“Mmm. I don’t know yet.” Anders’s eyes sparkled mischievously. Carver watched him warily for a moment, and then sighed.

“Alright, well, let’s get going, then.” Anders nodded in agreement and picked up a cloth bag form his table, and then the two of them left the clinic, walking towards the lowtown market.

For a while, they just walked in companionable silence. It wasn’t awkward, or tense, or in any way uncomfortable. The air was damp but a cool breeze was blowing, the clouds overhead thick and fluffy, with the threat of rain lingering the future. Carver frowned at it.

“I hope I get all the wood home before it gets wet.” He commented, and Anders glanced upwards, calculating.

“Mmm, we should have a few hours before it really starts to pour.” He said. Carver raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Really.” He asked. “And you know this because…?”

Anders grinned. “Planning escapes and being on the run forces a man to learn a bit about the environment, Carv.” He said. Carver groaned.

“Of _course_ it would. I don’t know why I’m even surprised.” He said, but there was a smirk pulling at his lips. Anders, seeing it, grinned even wider.

“I learned a lot of things from my times on the run.” He defended. “You’d be surprised at the vast amount of knowledge I have.”

“I’m sure.” Carver baited, and Anders raised an eyebrow, accepting the challenge.

And after that moment, the talking didn’t cease. The next few hours were filled with pointless conversation and rolling eyes, teasing smirks and boisterous laughs (the former from Carver, the latter of course from Anders), and the most relaxed, pleasant atmosphere either man had experienced in what felt like years. It wasn’t long until they reached the market and began searching for their various necessities; it seemed there was no rhyme or reason to the trinkets Anders picked up, dragging Carver from one end of the square to the other, picking up something and examining it for a moment before shaking his head and putting it back down, or nodding in excitement and purchasing it, then shoving it into his cloth bag. Carver was at a loss for what it could all be for, and grumped the whole time, but of course was having fun, and merely teasing – Anders could tell by the ever-present spark in his eyes, and the constant smile ghosting across his face.

At one point, Anders was leading Carver across the square (for the third time) when suddenly the boy stopped, staring at a jewelry stand a few feet away. The mage frowned.

“Carver?” he asked.

“I’ll be right back.” The boy said, disappearing into the crowd. Anders frowned; then he shrugged and wandered over to a different stand, glancing over the different items on the table. His eyes lit on a pile of Mabari Claws, and he wandered over, peering at them curiously.

"What are these for?" He asked the vendor, and the man gave him a crooked smile.

"Claws from the brave Mabari who fought along King Calin's side before he was murdered by them mages." He said. "100 authentic, I guarantee." Anders grinned triumphantly, as he instantly knew it was perfect for what he’d been looking for. Before Carver could return, he purchased them and shoved them in his bag, tying it shut right as the younger Hawke returned from the depths of the market.

“Where did you wander off to?” He asked innocently, raising an eyebrow.

“I saw something…” He muttered, flushing. “Wanted to get it while I was thinking about it.” He shrugged. Anders narrowed his eyes at him.

“Oh, really?” He asked. “What was it?”

“Something for Garrett.” Carver rolled his eyes. “I suppose I need to get him something too, after all.” Anders grinned, shaking his head.

“You’re really something, Carver, you know that?” He chuckled. The boy frowned, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

Anders ignored him and just started walking, chuckling to himself as he did so.

An hour or so later – neither were really keeping track of the time – Carver felt a drop of water hit his shoulder, and his face morphed into a frown.

“It’s starting to rain.” He said.

“That it is.” Anders sighed. “We’d better head to the wood section before they start packing it all up.” Carver nodded, and they started walking to the edge of the market, where the carpenter supplies were sold. There was a light drizzle, nothing more, but Carver glared at the mage.

“I thought you said we had a few hours before it rained.” He muttered.

“Ah, no.” Anders shook his head. “I said we have a few hours before it started _pouring._ ” He grinned. Carver scowled deeper.

“If the wood gets ruined, I blame you.” He grumbled.

“Relax, it’s going to be fine.” Anders rolled his eyes.

By the time they got there, there was a steady rainfall hitting their heads, although not enough to really be a cause for concern just yet. Carver easily found what he needed, but then realized a flaw in his plan.

“How am I going to get all of this to… shit, _where_ am I going to put all this?” he muttered to himself, staring at the woodblocks before him.

“Bring it to the clinic, I can store it for you.” Anders shrugged. “I won’t peek at the designs, I promise.” He grinned. Carver stared at him a moment, and then nodded.

“Thanks.” He sighed. “I’d bring them to Gamlen’s house, but…”

“Yeah.” Anders nodded.

“Carver? Anders?” A familiar voice came from behind them, and they both turned in surprise (although Carver with more annoyance than anything).

“Garrett?” Anders frowned. “What are you doing here?”

The eldest Hawke stood behind them, a pair of earrings in one hand and a bag full of cooking supplies in the other.

“I… uhm.” He looked at the earrings. They were elegant, but small, with three looping hoops connected together, each different sizes.

“Past-present-future?” Anders frowned. Garrett flushed.

“For Marian…” he explained. “since she’s always going to be part of the family? Or something, maybe its lame, I’m not amazing at this whole ‘gift’ thing-“

“It’s perfect, Hawke, I’m sure she’ll love them.” Anders chuckled, rolling his eyes. Garrett glanced at his brother; Carver just shrugged.

“Not the worst gift you could have picked.” He admitted. Garrett’s eyes widened at the approval; Carver scowled at him.

“The cooking supplies are for Mother.” Garrett finished, gesturing with his other hand. Carver raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“So now _you_ know what it feels like to be the errand boy.” He said.

“Carver.” Anders chided, and Garrett winced.

“I-“

“Since you’re here,” Anders cut him off before he would just dig himself into a deeper hole, “would you mind helping me transport some of these blocks back to the clinic? I don’t want them to get too wet.” Garrett frowned.

“Uhm, sure, but what are they for?”

“Medical things, repairs and such.” Anders shrugged. Carver started to protest that wood blocks were not near the same thing as plywood, but bit his tongue; Anders was trying to cover for him, he should be grateful.

“Oh, okay.” Garrett still didn’t look like he entirely believed him, but decided to go along with it. “We’d better start soon, then – it’s almost lunch time, and the sky’s looking angrier by the minute.” He turned, looking into the crowd for a moment, and then his eyes lit. “Oh, hold on a moment.” He wandered away to a cluster of teenagers, who, once they caught sight of him, began grinning and swarming him.

“What… is going on?” Carver frowned. Anders shrugged.

“Garrett knows a _lot_ of people in the lower city.” He said. “And they either love him… _or_ they want to kill him.” he shrugged. “There’s not much of an in between.”

A minute later, Garrett and three of the teens walked back over – a girl, and two guys – and began picking up the wood, chatting among themselves as they did so. They smiled and nodded a quick hello to the two men, but largely ignored them in lieu of deciding how to divide up the blocks among them. It wasn’t long before each was saddled with one or two blocks of wood, making their way towards Anders’s clinic, sticking to the edges of buildings to protect them from the rain.

By the time they’d arrived, it was a full-on downpour; Anders and Garrett had both taken off their coats to help cover the blocks, and they were sprinting over the cobblestones and up the steps; Anders threw open the door and the six of them ran inside, dripping wet with their clothes plastered to their skin.

“C-C-Cold…” the shortest of the teens shivered, his hair hanging into his eyes. “Wh-where do you want th-this stuff?”

“Just put it in the back.” Anders instructed, closing the door again behind him. “Thank you so much for this.”

“It’s not a big deal.” The girl smiled, setting down her blocks. “At least in here it’s warmer, and dry.”

“Yeah, if we hadn’t come with you we’d have been stuck outside.” The short boy added, attempting to wring water out of his shirt.

“Besides, we owed Hawke!” the third one said, clearly the youngest of the three. “He saved our father.”

Carver glanced at his brother; Garrett was bright red, but looked pleased.

“You are all welcome to stay until the storm dies down.” Anders said with a gentle smile. “I’ll whip up some food, because Maker knows I’m famished.”

“I second that.” The girl laughed. She turned to Carver and stuck out a hand. “I’m Cayrn, and these are my brothers Jhulin and Marcus.” She gestured to the shorter one first, and then the taller one; Jhulin, barely coming up to Carver’s shoulder, looked to be about fifteen, while Marcus, who was almost to his ear, could only be twelve or thirteen. Cayrn was about the same height, if not an inch or two shorter, but they all had the same vibrant green eyes and wide toothy smiles.

Carver shook her hand; her grip was firm.

“Carver Hawke.” He said.

She stopped, staring at him.

“Hawke?” She asked, looking between the two of them. Then her face lit. “How did I miss it before? Wow, you’re his _brother!”_ She beamed at him.

He only grit his teeth.

“Ah, who wants what?” Anders interjected, holding up different bags of food.

“Oooh, I want turkey!” Marcus cried in excitement. Cayrn, the moment forgotten, was quick to second his opinion, followed by Jhulin.

“Alright, three turkey sandwiches, coming up.” Anders laughed. “Hawke?”

“That’s fine for me.” Garrett nodded.

Carver sighed.

“Yeah, me too.” He muttered. Anders sent him a worried glance; he ignored it.

About an hour and a half later, the storm finally died down enough for the three teens to want to walk in it.

“Our dad is probably worried.” Cayrn said.

“He’s always worried.” Marcus rolled his eyes.

“Only because he cares.” Jhulin chided.

“I know! I know…”

“Thank you for everything.” Cayrn laughed, offering Anders a kind smile. “If you ever need anything, just let us know.”

“Will do. Be careful on your way home.” He told them.

“I’m heading the same way.” Garrett said. “If you don’t mind the company.”

“Sure thing.” The girl’s grin widened, and then she turned to Carver. “See you ‘round, little Hawke.”

“I… ugh. Yeah, see you.” He muttered, fist clenching at his side. Across the room, he heard Anders sigh. He glared at his brother; Garrett winced.

“Are you coming now, or…?” Garrett asked hesitantly.

“No, I promised to help Anders with his… repairs.” Carver said. “Tell mom I’ll be late.” Then he turned away and stalked into the backroom without waiting for a response. He heard a few last words being murmured, and then the door opening and closing.

Then there was a pause.  

“She wasn’t trying to belittle you.”

“I know.” Carver grunted, picking up one of the woodblocks.

“Carver.”

“Hmm.”

_”Carver.”_

He sighed.

Then he turned around to meet worried, golden eyes.

“Are you alright?”

He stared silently into them for a moment. Then he sighed.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I’m used to it by now. People look at me, and…” He shook his head. “All they ever see is someone else.”

“Carver-“

“When I was younger it was my dad, or Bethany. ‘Oh, you’re Malcolm’s boy’ or ‘oh, you’re the twin without the magic’ they’d all say.” He grit his teeth. “We came here and all it seems to have accomplished is throwing me into an even darker shadow.”

Anders didn’t seem to know what to say. Carver sighed.

“It’s not a big deal.” He said. “She didn’t mean anything by it.” He started to turn away; Anders’s hand on his shoulder made him stop.

“I can’t speak for the rest of the world.” The mage said. “But, for what it’s worth, I don’t see you as Garrett.” He smiled softly. “You share some traits, sure. There are times when I see you in him, and him in you. You’re both stubborn as a pair of asses, and have hair that refuses to stay down no matter how hard you try. You both care about your family enough to throw yourselves into danger to protect them. You both want to make a _difference_ , Carver. You want what’s best for people.” He paused. “None of those things are bad.”

“So you’re saying I should worship him like everyone else?” Carver spat, trying to pull away. Anders shook his head.

 _”No.”_ He stressed. “You didn’t let me finish.”

Carver kept glaring at him warily, but he did stop struggling against Anders’s grasp. 

“Garrett is far too trusting.” The mage said. “And far too willing to sacrifice himself for no reason. He’s rash and sometimes obnoxiously optimistic… He’s not good at focusing on one thing at a time, and what’s more is he has far too much trouble with simply asking for _help.”_ Anders raised an eyebrow. “You don’t trust enough.” He said flatly. “But you’re far more grounded than he is; you’re willing to admit to yourself that you can’t win every battle. You focus on one thing at a time, and don’t stop until that thing is complete. You’re observant, while Maker and Andraste both know your brother is the densest man in Thedas.” That drew a smirk out of the younger Hawke. “Carver, people know Garrett’s name because he’s too afraid to let people help; he doesn’t do it for the credit, or the glory – he does it to help people. He just doesn’t realize that sometimes _he’s_ the one who needs help, and if he does realize it he’s too damn afraid to say so.” He sighed. “He needs your help with your mother, too. He can’t be there to watch her, or Bethany. Maker knows Bethany is plenty capable of protecting herself, but…” he paused. “Well, you weren’t the only one affected by watching her get hurt. He doesn’t want that to happen to either of you, to _anyone_ , ever again.”

Carver didn’t really know how to respond; he just stood there, staring. Anders’s hand was still on his shoulder; the mage gave it a little squeeze.

“People are going to know your name someday, Carver hawke.” Anders said. “You’re only 18; you’ve got _so much time_ to do something great.” He smiled. “Just try to remember about little old me when your face is on posters all over Thedas.”

“I doubt I’d even be able to forget you.” Carver said without thinking.

Anders stared at him.

He stared back, shocked that the words had left his mouth.

For a long, awkward moment, there was silence. Hen the mage chuckled.

“Well that’s certainly good to hear.” He said, giving Carver’s shoulder one final pat before letting go and turning to his medical table. The boy flushed bright red, mouth open but no sound coming out. “Now what do you want to do with this wood?” Anders turned, staring at the pile of blocks.

Carver swallowed.

“I… I guess I should check if they’re dry and then get started.” He said with a little shrug. Anders nodded.

“Do you need any help?” he asked. Carver frowned.

“I thought you said it was wrong for people to share gifts before Satinalia.” He grumped, picking up his carving tools from the table and setting them on the ground. Anders raised an eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t it be more comfortable to sit?” He asked. Carver shook his head.

“When I’m doing line work and the first basic shavings, I like to be able to go close to it.” He said. “From the ground is easiest.”

“Ah.” Anders chuckled. “I’ll trust you then.” He pulled out his cloth bag. “I’ve got some stuff to do too, so I’ll just be over here if you need me.”

“Mmm.” Carver barely even heard him, examining each block to find the best fit for the design he wanted to start with; something for Bethany, maybe…

Anders just watched him for a moment, smiling softly. Then he turned and walked over to his table, pulling the tooth out of the bag.

Then he picked up one of the bundles of string on the table, and began to weave.  

 

* * *

 

 

“Carver.”

A hand was shaking his shoulder. He frowned, swatting it away. There was a chuckle, and then the hand returned. “Come on, sleepy head… time to get up.”

He sighed, and blinked his eyes open to stare up at the man crouching over him.

“Anders.” He grunted. “Did I… fall asleep here?” He stretched, and then jumped as something clattered to the ground next to him. He looked over to see a half-finished halla statue laying next to him. Anders laughed.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I sent a message to your brother so he knows you’re safe.”

“Wait, is it…” Carver frowned, “is it morning?”

“Yep.” Anders nodded.

“Shit.” Carver cursed, jumping to his feet. “I was supposed to meet Garrett at ten-“

“Relax, its only seven or so.” Anders rolled his eyes. “Breakfast is done if you want some.” Carver frowned, looking around to see the table in the back set with two plates of eggs and some bread.

“Oh…thanks, then.” He hesitated, and then followed the mage to the back.

“Coffee?” Anders asked, pouring his own glass. Carver frowned.

“I’ll pass.” He made a face.

“What?” Anders asked. “Do you not like coffee?”

“It tastes like dirt.” Carver said flatly.

Anders’s eyes widened in offence.

“Dirt!” He repeated indignantly. “How can you _say_ that?”

“Because it _does.”_ Carver shrugged, sitting down.

“Nope. Not in my house.” Anders shook his head. “Here. Try some.” He poured a second glass, and set it on the table before the Hawke.

Carver glared at him, arms crossed. Anders grinned.

“Humor me.”

He sighed.

“Fine.” He reached out a callused hand and grabbed the cup, staring at the creamy brown liquid suspiciously. “Isn’t it usually… darker?”

“Special recipe.” Anders shrugged innocently. Carver sniffed it.

“Vanilla?”

“Just _try_ it!” Anders sighed in exasperation. Carver groaned and then gave in, putting the edge to his lips and taking a sip.

Then he shouted in surprise and dropped the glass, which shattered on impact with the ground, spilling coffee everywhere.

“Andraste’s _ass_ , that’s _hot!”_ He cursed.

“Maker, Carver, it’s _coffee_ , its _supposed_ to be hot!” Anders replied, jumping in shock.

“I didn’t know it was going to be _that_ hot!” Carver protested, getting to his feet and staring at the mess below him. “Shit, I’m… sorry.” He walked to the sink and grabbed the broom to sweep up the shards of ceramic, face bright red.

“It’s alright, it’s just a cup.” Anders shrugged. “If anything I’m more annoyed about the waste of perfectly good caffeine.”

“You should have warned me.” Carver accused half-heartedly, and Anders rolled his eyes, but he was smirking.

“I figured it would have been common sense.” He replied. Carver flushed.

“I told you, I don’t _drink_ coffee.” He mumbled, shoving the last of the fragments onto the dustpan. “Where should I put this?”

“Just dump it out back.” Anders said. “Not in the road, the kids run around out there sometimes.” He pointed to a side exit to his cave, and Carver nodded, doing as he instructed. When he returned, Anders was seated at the table, fork in hand, grinning at him.

He flushed and pointedly ignored his gaze.

They ate in companionable silence after that – the food was pretty good, although personally Carver missed the pancakes he knew Marian would be making at Gamlen’s house. Still, there was something _different_ about the clinic… Something about it made it feel more like… well, like a _home_ would feel, in stark opposition to the shithole his uncle resided in. He wasn’t really sure why exactly, just that it did…

And that he really liked it there.

Still, eventually it came time to leave. He was supposed to meet Garrett around ten, and it was a good half hour walk away. He sighed, getting to his feet.

“I need to head out.” He said. Anders sighed almost sadly, and then nodded.

“You’re right… it’s getting late.”

There was a pause. Carver shifted, feeling like he should say something but not entirely sure what. So, doing what he did best, he decided not to say anything at all, and instead began walking to the door.

“Will I see you later today?” Anders’s voice stopped him. He frowned, turning back to the mage. Anders was staring at him with those curious honey gold eyes, something similar to hope shinning in them.

“Yeah.” Carver said, flushing for some inexplicable reason. “I’ve… still got a lot of carving to do, so… I’ll be back once Garrett and I are done.”

Anders’s face split into a smile.

“Alright, then.” He said. “Good luck, and _try_ not to murder your brother, alright?”

Carver rolled his eyes.

“Somehow I’ll contain the impulse.” He promised, a smirk barely noticeable on his lips. At the sound of Anders’s laugh, it almost grew into a smile.

“I’m glad to hear it.” The mage chuckled. “Have fun, Carver.”

“Yeah.” The warrior nodded, and then walked to the door, turning around once more before he left and giving a little wave. “See you later.”

Then he was gone. Anders smiled to himself, watching the door shut.

“Mmm. See you later.”


	19. In Which Satinalia Arrives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooo, school happened and there were several months were I didn't write anything at all, which sort of killed my soul but hey! Now it's almost summer and I'm starting to get to actually have free time again! 
> 
> This is still going and I do intend to finish it someday, I promise! Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me and these two dorks through all the grand pauses and cliff hangers. Now, onto the story!

“Can I help you with something?” Carver snapped. Anders, who’d been leaning against the counter, jumped in surprise.

“What?” He asked.

“Why are you… _staring_ at me?” Carver asked, flushing and setting the knife he’d been using on his lap. For the last half hour or so, he’d been catching the Mage’s glance out of the corner of his eye as he was carving, and it was… _distracting._ “It makes it hard to work.” Anders blinked.

“Oh, I’m… sorry.” He replied, ducking his head apologetically. “I didn’t really realize it. It’s just,” he smiled, “you look… different.”

Carver quirked an eyebrow.

“Different?”

“When you’re working.” Anders explained. “You just seem really into your work, I suppose.” He winked teasingly. “You look a lot less angry, for one.”

Carver huffed and glared at him, and Anders laughed.

“Sorry, sorry… I’ll try not to bother you.” He ceded, turning back to his table with a few subsiding chuckles. Carver stared at his back a moment, making sure he stayed facing away, and then sighed, looking back down. 

There was something about the block before him, the knife in his hands, the feeling of it dragging across the surface of the balsa wood – the shavings on the ground around him, like snow, curling into little ringlets – the figure taking shape before him, _because_ of him. There was no other feeling like it.

Malcolm had been good at it too. He’d taught Carver when he was small – one of the few things his father had ever done with him. Not that Malcolm was a _bad_ father, and Carver knew the mage children needed to be trained or they would all be in trouble, he wasn’t _stupid,_ but… he’d always felt like he got the left over attention. Whatever was left of his father after training several mages and working all day long was the part handed to Carver, and often times that wasn’t much.

But when his dad had been working with the wood, it was like he was in a world of his own… a world that only Carver seemed able to breach. He’d sit there for hours and watch Malcom’s knife graze across the surface, and play with the white flakes of wood on the ground when he got distracted. Every now and then, his father would stop and call him over to show him something, some technique or cut that he’d just made that he was especially proud of – and eventually that transitioned into teaching him how to do them as well. Carver stared at the wood, and then picked up his knife again.

“It’s calming.” He said casually, dragging the knife smoothly across the wooden surface. “It… reminds me of my father.”

Anders blinked and turned back to him.

“You, calm?” he smirked teasingly. Carver rolled his eyes. Then he sat back, examining his work with narrowed eyes; then he nodded in approval, and set it aside.

“It doesn’t matter now… I’m done.” He stated.

“Just in time, too.” Anders laughed. “The day after tomorrow is the big event, after all.” Carver flushed and glared at the floor.

“Don’t remind me…”

“Everyone will love them.” Anders assured him, offering a hand. Carver sighed, and then accepted it, allowing the mage to pull him to his feet. “They really are amazing, Carver.” The boy flushed, shrugging.

“They’re not the worst.”

“So modest.” Anders teased. “But its late… perhaps you should be getting home. I’m sure your mother misses your face around the house.” Carver snorted.

“If anything, they’re all enjoying the extra space.” He replied. “Maker knows Gamlen’s house is cramped enough as it is.”

“I’m sure… especially with that large _monster_ squeezing in as well.”

“Miles goes where Garrett goes.” Carver sighed. “Besides, he’s a good dog.”

“That’s an oxymoron.” Anders complained. “ ‘Good’ and ‘dog’ don’t belong in conjunction with one another.” Carver made a face.

Anders broke into laughter.

“Ah, well… you’re welcome to stay here again if you wish.” He continued, patting the Hawke’s shoulder. “Besides, there’s still the matter of getting all these into bags and looking more present-like.”

Carver groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Oh, Maker, you’re right.” He cursed. Anders smiled and nodded knowingly.

“I’ll send a note to let Garrett know.” He replied, giving the boy’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“He could probably guess, at this point.” Carver rolled his eyes. “Uhm… thanks, by the way.” He flushed, looking away. “For letting me stay.”

Anders blinked. Then his expression softened, a warm light coming into his honey-gold eyes, and a smile parted his lips.

“You’re welcome any time, Carver.” He said, and Carver wasn’t sure why but something about the tone of the mage’s voice made the blush on his ears deepen.

“Th… thanks.” He repeated again, unsure of what else to say. There was a pause. Then Anders sighed, nudged the Hawke’s shoulder, and smiled.

“Come on.” He said. “Let’s get this finished so you can get some sleep.” He grinned. “You’re starting to look like a zombie.”

Carver sighed, but didn’t protest as Anders led him to the back, where a pile of bags that they’d purchased at the market earlier in the week were laying on the floor.

Sometime between when they started and when Anders finished, Carver had sat down on the couch to rest for a second, complaining about a headache – Anders had offered to help, but the Hawke had just shaken his head.

It was not five minutes after that Anders turned around only to see him slumped over, head on his chest, eyelashes feathered shut. He chuckled to himself; then he walked over, putting a hand on the warrior’s shoulder.

“Come on, sleepy head.” He coaxed. “Lay down and go to bed.” It didn’t take much more convincing than that, as Carver then toppled sideways, hitting the cushions with a dull thud and landing on Anders’s arm as he did so. The mage shouted in surprise, losing his balance and falling to one knee; then he laughed, tugging his arm lightly. “Hey, no fair.”

“Shhhhhh.” Carver hushed him, shaking his head. Anders rolled his eyes, shifting till he was sitting cross legged on the ground, a bemused expression on his face as he studied the half-asleep Hawke.

“I need my arm back, Carver.” He tried again, tugging once more to prove his point. Carver grunted in annoyance, and then grudgingly shifted to the side to allow the mage to slide free. Anders laughed, shaking his head, and got back to his feet. “Goodnight, Carver.” He chuckled, dimming the lights as he left the room to go to the back, where the other couch lie waiting. He was met with nothing but gentle breaths from the direction of the couch, not that that surprised him, and then glanced at the clock on the wall, eyes sparkling as he realized it was already into the morning of the next day. He turned to catch one last glimpse of the already softly snoring warrior, smiled, and whispered, “Happy Satinalia.”

 

* * *

 

The next day, Carver spent time at home.

It was strange, almost… he’d been at the clinic more often than not the last week or so, working on his carvings, trying to make sure they were all done before the big day. Now that he was finished…

Well, he was _bored._

Bethany and Merrill were locked in Bethany’s room working on… _something,_ of which they refused to say more than that, and Leandra was in the kitchen putting together some food and crafting things or something of the sort, and Garrett and Marian were Maker-knows-where doing Andraste-knows-what.

That left him and Gamlen stuck in the house with nothing to do, and the last thing he wanted was to hang around his uncle.

He did honestly consider simply going back to the clinic, but…

Well, he’d been there a lot recently, and he wouldn’t want to be a bother. Well, more of a bother than he already had been, at least…

He sighed, scratching Miles behind the ears, the mabari’s head resting in his lap.

“Carver.” Bethany’s head poked out of the room, voice a harsh whisper. He frowned.

“What?”

“I need you to do something for me.” His twin said. He sighed, nudged Miles’s head away, and got to his feet, walking towards the door.

“What is it?” He sighed in resignation, and she grinned. Then she pointed to the room Leandra had taken up residence in.

“I need you to go find some blue thread for me.” She said. He made a face.

“Where in Andraste’s name will I find that?” He demanded, and she rolled her eyes in exasperation, gesturing again to their mother’s room.

“In there, there’s a small kit on the ground that folds out when you pull the handle – there’s lots of thread and needles in it.”

“Why do I have to get it?” Carver grumbled, even as he turned to do as he was asked – it was better than doing _nothing,_ he supposed. Still, digging around his mother’s things…

He sighed, and went in the room.

Ten minutes later he emerged, victoriously carrying a small roll of light blue thread. It had taken… a while, to find the box Bethany told him about. Turns out it’d been shoved under the bed, whereas he’d looked everywhere but there – the closet, under the desk, in the drawers… but no.

“Bethy.” He grunted through the door. There was some shifting sounds, and then some giggles, and then the door cracked open and Bethany’s hand stuck out. He frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Just give me the thread.” His twin snickered, and he sighed, dropping it into her palm and shaking his head.

“I don’t want to know.”

He returned to the living room.

He sat, and waited.

And waited.

He pet Miles some more.

He wished he’d stayed at the clinic a bit longer like Anders had offered.

“Carver,” He looked up at his mother’s voice, “could you come help me? I need a few extra fingers for holding things and tying ribbons.” She laughed. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes this time – Leandra wasn’t overly fond of that particular habit – and followed her to the kitchen where several baskets sat in a row amidst a pile of ribbons and wrapping paper. Carver frowned.

“What are these for?” He asked, but she just smiled and shook her head.

“You will see.” She replied mysteriously, and he sighed.

“What do you need me to do?” He asked, resignation evident in his voice, and she laughed. Then she began showing him what she wanted, tying each one differently, some with ribbon wrapping around the handle, others with streamers tied in little bows that he was in charge of gluing in place. By the time they stopped, it was nearing time to beginning cooking, which, due to having a lack of anything else to do, Carver got dragged into helping with as well.

“Are we having guests?” he asked, surveying the rather copious amount of food spread on Gamlen’s (rather small) table. Leandra shrugged.

“I told all of Garrett’s friends they were welcome to come, if they had nowhere else to be.” She replied. He blinked. Anders hadn’t mentioned that the night before, but then again it hadn’t really come up between when Carver finished his gifts and when he crashed on the couch… which was almost instantly. “I believe Merrill is coming.” Her eyes sparkled.

He flushed.

_”Mother,_ there’s nothing going on with Merrill and I.” He grumbled, and she hummed contemplatively. He frowned. “What?”

“Anders is coming as well.” Leandra said casually.

His flushed deepened.

“Wh-what?” He nearly dropped the pepper he’d been carrying to the counter, and instantly her expression lit up.

“Ah!” She grinned victoriously. “I have to say, I didn’t expect this…” She frowned. “Will I have _any_ grandchildren before I die?”

“What are you talking about?” Carver spluttered. “Anders is _friend,_ Mother, he’s…” _He’s not interested in ME, he’s interested in Garrett…_ He thought, but didn’t dare finish. “Besides,  we’re all far too young to be talking about… _grandchildren_.” He shuddered.

Not that he didn’t like children, just…

Well. They were small, and noisy, and… and he didn’t believe himself capable, honestly, of taking care of something so… _fragile._

“Garrett isn’t.” Leandra sighed. “I only wish we lived in a world where the idea of you three starting families was exciting, instead of terrifying.” She’d stopped chopping up the lettuce, just standing there with the knife in her hand. He hesitated.

Then he crossed the kitchen and put a hand on her shoulder, guiding her into a hug. She was shorter than him – her forehead hit his shoulder.

“It’s going to be alright, Mother.” He said confidently. “That’s what Garrett is working for after all.” He paused. “And if Garrett is anything, it’s stubborn – he won’t give up until things are better.” She pulled back and smiled, nodding.

“Yes, you’re right…” She dabbed at her eyes. “Besides, this should be a day of celebration – look at what we have already.” She sighed, a small smile on her face. “You, and Bethany and Garrett, all thriving…” she nodded. “Your father would be proud of you, Carver.” His eyes widened. It wasn’t often Leandra would bring up Malcolm, around any of them – then he nodded his head, and turned back to the food.

They cooked in companionable silence after that, aside from the occasional request to pass one tool or another. When it was nearing the end, there was a knock on the door, and Bethany and Merrill both ran out of the room to open it; Carver could have sworn he saw their hands clasped when they left the room, but moments later separated as Bethany’s arms flew around Isabela’s neck.

He shook his head.

_Not going to ask._

“Oh, it smells lovely, Leandra.” Isabela purred, slinking into the kitchen. “Hello, Carver.” He glared at her, for no other reason than that’s what he usually did – she only laughed, shaking her head.

Moments later, there was another knock, and this time Bethany just called, “The door’s open!” rather than leave the Rivani’s side. Next Varric and Anders entered, along with Garrett, Marian, and Fenris – they were all talking, well, arguing really, and Carver frowned at the sudden volume increase in the house.

“What’s going on?” He asked, him and Bethany trading a confused glance.

“The children are fighting again.” Varric rolled his eyes, the only one in the party who didn’t seem distressed in any way.

“It isn’t a joke!” Anders snapped.

“Anders, _please-“_ Garrett pleaded.

“You’re overreacting, Andy.” Marian frowned disapprovingly. His eyes turned wild.

“How can you _say_ that?”

“You got what you wanted, _mage.”_ Fenris spat. “What reason have you to complain?”

_”Fen-“_

“Have a nice dinner, Hawke.” Fenris threw a hand up in the air, turned, and walked out the door. Garrett looked shocked.

“I… Fenris, hold on!” And just like that, he was gone too.

“Maker save us.” Marian sighed.

For a second, there was blessed silence in the room. Then Isabela said, “Do I want to ask what that was about?”

“There was a boy, a _child-“_

“A teenager.” Marian rolled her eyes, eyebrows lowered in irritation.

“And an apostate, to boot.” Varric continued. “We’ve been trying to track the kid for about a week now, when we could. I had contacts searching when weren’t – yesterday, Hawke and I talked to this Templar, Thrask, and got a lead on where he might be.” He sighed.

“There were slavers.” Anders snapped.

“You killed them?” Isabela said, eyebrow raised. Anders nodded.

“Yes, but… we almost didn’t.” He said. “Garrett is too softhearted to make a decision about someone’s life in a split second – as he _should_ be.”

“Fenris wasn’t pleased at the hesitation.” Varric explained. “And when Garrett let the boy go instead of sending him to the Circle…”

“Ah.” Isabela sighed. Carver frowned, noting Anders’s hand fisted at his side, face drawn in concentration.

“Alright, everyone just needs to calm down.” Leandra sighed. “Food will be done soon… Bethany, be a dear and help me with the last bit of lunch, won’t you? Oh, Marian, if you don’t mind grabbing some plates…” She continued to hand out instructions, and Carver looked at her in confusion.

She stared at him, flicked her eyes to Anders, and then raised an eyebrow.

He flushed.

“Oh, fun!” Isabela said as her, Bethany, and Merrill swarmed the table to help. Varric said something about needing to relieve himself, and disappeared – Carver hesitated.

Then he sighed, and walked to Anders’s side, nodding with his head down the hallway. Anders grit his teeth, but followed him. Carver, not entirely sure of where he was heading, ended up in his bedroom for lack of any other destination, and had to force himself not to think of the gossip no doubt occurring in the kitchen.

“I can’t _stand_ that Circle loving _bastard.”_ Anders said through his teeth as soon as the door shut. Carver sighed.

“Just… tell me what happened.” He replied, still not entirely sure he cared but not really knowing what else to say, and Anders nodded.

“There was a half-elvish boy – his father was human and abandoned both him and his mother. Feynriel – the boy – is a mage, but…” Anders frowned, troubled. “He apparently has these… chronic nightmares.”

“And that’s unusual?” Carver asked. Anders nodded.

“From what Arianni was describing?” he sighed. “It sounded like… well.” He shrugged. “It sounded like the Fade that she was describing.”

Carver frowned. “What does that mean?”

Anders shrugged.

“Either way… his dreams started getting worse, and she…” Anders’s fist clenched. “She called the Circle.”

“She was probably worried.” Carver replied, trying to sound reasonable. “It’s not like there’s a guidebook on how to raise children with magic, especially not if one isn’t a mage themselves. If she was concerned for his safety…”

“But to call the Templars on her own son?” Anders demanded.

“If she was desperate enough, then yes, apparently so.” Carver shrugged. “She probably didn’t see another option… and what other one would there even be?” He questioned. “If, like you say, he was… Maker, somehow entering the Fade itself, don’t you think that’s dangerous? Not only for him, for everyone around him – all those in the Alienage, too.”

“I…” Anders didn’t seem to know what to say. “I don’t know.”

Carver sighed.

“I’m not saying it was the right thing.” He shrugged.

“I know.” Anders sighed. “Anyways, Feynriel found out what she’d done, and ran away… Arianni then asked us to help find him. He went to his father, apparently, who sent him to some ex-Templar named… oh, I don’t even remember.” Anders groaned, shaking his head. “Point being, Feynriel had been kidnapped by slavers along the way, which is where we found him.”

“Right, Fenris wasn’t happy, you all killed them, then what?” Carver nodded, recognizing the story from what little Varric had said.

“Feynriel said he wished to go study with the Dalish.” Anders continued. “Fenris demanded he be sent to the _Circle_ before he ‘hurt someone, or even just himself’.” He spat. “As if they would help him there…”

“Wouldn’t they?” Carver questioned. “Wouldn’t helping him get his powers under control be a top priority for the Templars?” Anders snorted.

“They’d make him Tranquil without a second thought.” He snapped. “Going there would have been worse than killing him, or letting the slavers have him.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What I can’t stand is that Fenris would be _perfectly_ okay with that.”

Carver sighed.

“Was he angry about letting him go or about the slavers?” He asked.

“Thedas be dammed if I know.” Anders shrugged. Carver paused, and then said, “You said being made Tranquil would be even worse than letting the slavers have him…” Anders nodded. “Fenris _was_ as slave, Anders.” He shrugged. “And he’s got no idea what it’d be like to be a mage in the position of being made Tranquil. To him, the idea of letting someone get forced into slavery is probably just as bad as your idea of sending a mage to the Circle.” He frowned. “Maker, I can’t believe I’m _defending_ him.”

“I can’t either.” Anders replied, but he did smirk slightly. He still didn’t look happy, but definitely less angry at least. “I suppose I see what you’re saying, but I still cannot stand him, or the things that he stands for.”

“He can’t be completely pro-Circle.” Carver shrugged. “Marian, Bethany, Garrett, even Merrill and you for Maker’s sake – the two he hates in Garrett’s little group the most – he hasn’t turned a single one of you in.”

Anders paused, and then huffed at him in annoyance.

“Don’t make me feel bad for being so angry.” He complained. “I don’t like being sympathetic to the elf.”

“Trust me, I’m not the biggest fan of it either.” Carver rolled his eyes. “It is the holidays, though… It’d be a shame to spend it feuding with one another.” He hesitated. “Mother is rather excited.”

“Oh?” Anders, rolled his eyes, “I suppose you aren’t, then?”

“I…” Carver flushed. “I mean, I am… curious, to see what… oh, screw it.” He shook his head. “This is what I get, isn’t it?” He sighed in exasperation, but somehow they both knew he was teasing. Anders laughed, and then trailed off into a small smile.

“You’re really something, Carver.” He said thoughtfully. “But thank you.”

“For what?” Carver grumbled, shrugging. Anders shook his head.

“Never mind.” He replied. Carver blinked, and then shrugged.

“Uhm… you’re welcome, then.” He mumbled.

“Shall we go help the others finish setting up dinner?” Anders asked, and Carver sighed, nodding.

“I suppose we should.” He agreed. Together they walked back to the kitchen – everything was more or less set up by then, and to Carver’s surprise, Garrett was back. He still looked… slightly distressed, but not overly so; Carver took that to mean he at least talked to Fenris, although the elf still remained absent.

No one brought it up, though, and soon they were all seated and digging into the meal – which, even Carver had to admit, was delicious. Conversation floated about the table, full of laughter, and Carver…

Well, he couldn’t remember a time there was that much warmth in a room at one time near his family. Not since before Marian and her siblings had left them, if he was being honest…

He looked over to see her and Isabela deep in conversation about the benefits of ‘swinging all ways’ as they put it, observed by a very entranced Merrill.  Bethany’s eyes were wide as she listened in as well, her face flushed slightly, and no, Carver was definitely _not_ noticing the little glances the pirate kept sending his sister as she talked about the intricacies of female sex and okay, he was looking elsewhere, now towards Varric and Garrett on the other side of the table – Leandra was telling a story about when Garrett was younger, and Varric was taking notes on a napkin while the rather embarrassed subject of the tale protested weakly on the sidelines of the conversation.

“No, I didn’t exactly _cover_ the dog with… okay, it was a _few eggs,_ Mother, it’s… why are you even telling this story?” Garrett groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

“Is this the story of you attempting baking a cake on Miles’s side?” Carver made a face, and Garrett flushed.

“It was his birthday.” He defended.

“Ooh, I remember this!” Marian cut in brightly. “Aw, Gare, you were so cute.”

“You were the one who told me to do it!” Garrett accused.

“I didn’t think you’d believe me.” She laughed, rolling her eyes.

“What is this story?” Anders asked curiously, a grin on his face. “It sounds like one I simply must hear.”

“I told sweet, dear baby Garrett,” Marian started, even as her cousin sighed in resignation, “that it was Miles’s birthday. He, being four, wanted to make him a cake for his birthday. I _jokingly_ informed him, since it was oh so hot outside and Miles had been laying in the sun all day, that it would be warm enough to bake it right on him.”

“Oh, Maker.” Bethany giggled, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I opened the door to call the children in for dinner,” Leandra continued, “only to hear Garrett shouting at Miles that he ‘wasn’t done baking yet’ moments before a mabari covered in eggs, flour, and sugar barreled past me and into the house.” Everyone at the table burst into laughter, and even Carver couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at his lips. Garrett was bright red, but even he was chuckling sheepishly, rubbing his head awkwardly.

“I washed him afterwards, at least.” He offered.

“Yeah, and we were all stuck with cleaning duties for the rest of the day.” Marian rolled her eyes.


	20. In Which The Gifts are Given

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys I went back and read this a few days ago and honestly, there are so many emotions packed into this chapter I can't even. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy them as much as I do~  
> Thanks for reading!

 “Uhm… did someone forget to wrap their gifts?” Merrill frowned, walking into the larger living room of Denarius’s stolen property with the others trailing behind her, noting the piles on the floor each contained one unwrapped present. Carver’s gaze instantly slid to Fenris, and they stared at each other distastefully; Fenris pursed his lips, and then shrugged. “What does it matter, they’ll be open eventually.”

“But that’s half the fun.” Anders muttered, going to his pile and sitting down. Marian had come in earlier and sorted the gifts by name, so that all they had to do was open the presents surrounding them instead of madly scrambling around the room to try to hand each person one of their gifts at a time.

Fenris and Carver, of course, had both made the mutual agreement not to attempt to try to find gifts for one another through an unspoken glare the first time the party had been mentioned when they were both in the same room, and that was completely fine with Carver because honestly he wouldn’t have cared much about anything destined to make it to the elf’s hands – and he knew Fenris felt the same about him. He imagined Anders and Fenris had a similar arrangement, which was confirmed by the lack of a present in Anders’s hands as everyone around them ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed  at gifts the elf had given.

Bethany was holding an old tome that appeared to be about Tevinter history and customs, and was scanning through the index with wide, excited eyes. Isabela cradled a bottle of aged, expensive wine (that Carver had no doubt came from the basement of that creepy stolen house) and gave the elf a saucy wink, to which he just huffed and looked away. Varric was studying what appeared to be a beer mug made of stone, glyphs from Orzammar carved in the side – and again, Carver knew the only way Fenris had gotten ahold of something like that was if he’d stolen it, or if it was already there in Denarius’s pile of collectables. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that…

He was pulled from his thoughts by a squeal.

A squeal that came from _Garrett._

In his lap, there was a life-sized mabari stuffed animal, filled with beans and cotton on the inside with a brown and white coat of fur and a face to make your heart melt.

Even Carver had to admit… It was _really_ cute.

“Where did you even… how did you… its perfect!” Garrett couldn’t find words, hugging the doll to his chest and burying his face, beard and all, into it’s fur. Carver glanced at the elf, and then froze, a frown settling into place on his face, because he _knew_ that couldn’t be embarrassment on Fenris’s face.

“I am… pleased that you enjoy it.”, was all that the elf said.

“I love it!” Garrett corrected enthusiastically. Fenris rolled his eyes. Carver did too, and then traded a simultaneous glare with the elf. Then Bethany asked, “Is it soft?” and the next thing they knew, the stuffed animal had been passed all the way around the living room, each person feeling the sides of it and being shocked at it’s un-Maker-ly soft exterior, until it finally returned to Garrett – who of course kept hugging it there in his lap for the remainder of the afternoon.

The gift that surprised him most, however, was Merrill. He had honestly expected Fenris wouldn’t get her anything either, seeing as the two of them rarely got along, but there she was, holding a book about healing in her hands. Her green eyes scanned animatedly over the pages, delicate fingers brushing across lines of text, and when she finally looked up her smile was blinding.

“Thank you, Fenris.” She said happily. He only grunted in response, but that didn’t seem to faze her – she just clutched the book to her chest and smiled wider.  

“Alright, my gifts next!” Isabela announced, sitting on the floor with a pile of variously sized boxes and bags – some more delicately wrapped than others.

“Ooooh, it’s so pretty!” Merrill smiled, picking up the package and studying the grass green paper wrapped around it. There were two boxes, both of medium-small size, tied together with a blue ribbon. “Which should I open first?”

“Mmm… the bottom one. You too, Bethy.” Isabela replied, sending both girls mischievous little looks. 

There was something in her eyes… something Carver couldn’t quite put his finger on. He frowned, then shook his head and reached for his own green-wrapped package.

“Do we open them now?” Garrett asked hesitantly, and Isabela laughed.

“Go for it, Kitten.” She purred. Carver rolled his eyes. The sounds of tearing paper filled the room, followed by noises of surprise or gratitude.

For Carver, he just stared.

In his box, there was a bright pink muscle shirt, in the middle of which was stitched a cat whose face was scrunched in a disapproving frown, eyes glaring out grumpily.

“What. Is this.”

“You’re _welcome!”_ Isabela cackled. He looked up, glaring at her, and she pointed. “See? Exactly! You are the grumpy cat! It’s perfect!”

“I can see the resemblance.” Marian nodded in agreement, one hand on her chin as she appraised the two faces. His glare shifted to her and she broke into a smirk.

“I think it’s cute.” Anders grinned from over his shoulder. Carver scoffed.

“You would.”

“What was yours?”

Anders held out a small box, eyes sparkling with excitement. Carver frowned and opened it; inside was a single golden earing. When he looked back up, Isabela was winking at the mage, who was nodding his thanks at her.

“Bella.” Bethany’s voice was soft, but it caught Carver’s attention amidst the clamor in the room, and he frowned, eavesdropping accidentally in his curiosity. His eyes focused on a box that was similar in size to Anders’s open in her hands, a ring inside. His twin’s eyes were shining.

He blinked.

“What…”

“Let them be.” Marian nudged his side and shook her head, smiling. He looked back; Merrill had joined them, her box holding a silver pendant with something inscribed in the side – it was far too small for Carver to read it at that distance, but whatever it was it had Merrill’s eyes wide and a smile on her face so large he was sure the corners of her lips were touching her ears.

He shook his head, looking away.

“I probably don’t want to know.” He agreed with his cousin, and she laughed.

“I love it!” Garrett’s voice came next, holding up a…

Purse? Carver frowned.

“Are you sure that’s the right gift?” He asked, and Isabela nodded.

“It’s an external pocket!” Garrett said in excitement. “Maker knows I need a better way to carry things… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Isabela grinned.

“And where, may I ask, did you get these?” Varric took his turn, eyebrow raised in appreciation as he considered the set of Thedas-themed shot glasses spread out before him on the floor. Isabela shrugged.

“I never reveal my sources.” She grinned.

“Touché. Well, thanks.” He said, and she nodded.

Finally all eyes turned to Fenris. He was staring in his box with a look of perturbed confusion that might have almost made Carver want to laugh, if he didn’t dislike the elf so much. Instead he just scowled.

“Something wrong?” Isabela asked, eyes glinting. “Those are from Varric and I both, by the way.” Fenris looked up at her, eyes weary, but… amused? Is that what amusement looked like on the elf’s face?

Carver wasn’t aware he was capable of such an emotion.

“These are… different.” He said politely.

“Aw, come on, let us see!” Marian grinned, and he sent her a withering glance.

“I’d prefer not.”

“My turn!” Merrill clapped her hands, turning attention away from Fenris. Garrett leaned over the elf’s shoulder to peer into the box, which Fenris grudgingly allowed; Carver watched as his brother’s face flushed bright pink, spluttering as he fell over backwards in an attempt to slide back once more.

Maybe he imagined the second of a smile that appeared on the elf’s face.

He scowled harder, and reached for Merrill’s bag. He pulled out the paper and drew the object inside out, and his eyes widened. It was a scarf that she’d knitted herself, a sword running the length of it with a blue background. It was thick and very warm; he looked up at her, and she smiled brightly.

“This… uhm, thanks.” He said. He remembered the cold months of the year previous - him, Garrett, Bethany, and Leandra doing whatever possible to stay warm – which often times, that meant he and Garrett went with nothing at all aside from their regular clothes. They’d since come into a bit more money, but still… he’d no doubt it’d be of use to him. He did his best to show that as he thanked her. She beamed at him and nodded, seeming to understand.

She’d made something similar for all of them – for Garrett and Anders, it was an across-the-shoulder staff sheath, as well as a pair of socks with dogs on the sides for the Hawke and an orange-patterned scarf with a cat on it for the other. For Fenris, it was a pair of gloves – “so your hands won’t be so spiky and stab people when they walk past” – and for Varric, a lopsided hat that had a daisy on it.

“It matches your eyes.” Anders said suddenly, and Carver jumped.

“What?” he asked, and the mage smiled, almost… sadly.

“The background of the scarf.” He explained. “It matches your eyes.”

Carver swallowed, and didn’t reply.

“Alright, I suppose I’m next!” Bethany announced.

When Carver looked up, he had to do a double take.

All three girls had large, misshapen sweaters that were all the same pattern (but with various sized sleeves, some hanging down three inches past the fingers and others just barely brushing the palm) pulled over their other clothes, huddled in a pile and grinning with flushed faces.

Even Isabela.

“What _even…”_ He muttered, reaching for Bethany’s gift and looking away. 

“These are from both Marian and I.” Bethany added and grinned at her cousin, who nodded. Everyone pulled out something similar from their bags – cookies wrapped in plastic, and a bracelet. What was on the bracelet however differed for everyone – Carver’s was woven strands of blue and gold, while Anders’s was gold, blue, and grey; Garret’s was red and silver, and Fenris’s red, ice blue, and black; Varric’s was green and grey; Merrill’s was green and blue, although a darker blue than Carver’s was, while Isabela’s was that same dark blue, gold, and a deep purple – finally, Bethany’s own was again the dark ocean blue, as well as the lighter one shared in Carver’s, with a third color being a light lilac. Carver tried not to think about what the different relationships between the colors could mean. There were also ten beads threaded in; on them was carved, “Team Hawke.”

The room got silent for a moment as they all looked at each other; Garrett flushed.

“Thanks, Bethy.”

“Why don’t you go next, Gare?” She replied, smiling in excitement.

“What? Uhm, no, I-“

“Alright, everyone, open his next!” Isabela drowned him out, and he spluttered helplessly as everyone reached for his (somewhat messily wrapped) gifts. Carver studied his distastefully, not really wanting to venture a guess as to what could be inside. It wasn’t very big, but it was kind of heavy – he sighed and opened it.

Inside was a salt shaker shaped like a dog.

“Aww!” Anders cooed suddenly, and he looked over to see the mage holding a kitten pepper shaker, matching the style of the salt he was holding.

His face flushed.

“Garret, what the fuck?”

“I thought they were cute!” His brother defended. “What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re salt and pepper shakers?”

Garrett stopped. There was a pause.

“They… are?” His brother frowned, horror dawning in his eyes. “I mean, I got them on the way to get the cooking supplies, but I didn’t… oh.” He buried his face in his hands.

Everyone burst into laughter – even him, after a moment. And, as much as he hated himself for it, even Carver couldn’t help but smirk.

It was pretty funny after all.

And… if he was being honest, it _was_ a really cute salt shaker.

“Aww, Gare, where did you find _this_ beauty?” Isabela asked in excitement, holding up the fertility pendant. Grateful for the change in topic, he focused on her, shrugging.

“In the Market… Marian helped me.” He said, and she nodded, glancing at the newest Hawke with an appreciative eyebrow raised.

“Good taste.” She commented.

Merrill’s reaction to the Dalish ring was to get up from her pile of sweater sleeves and dash across the room to hug him, tears in her eyes.

“I love it!” She said in his ear. He blushed happily.

“I… I’m glad.” He smiled, meeting Fenris’s gaze.  The elf rolled his eyes, but his expression looked softer than usual.

“Garrett.” He looked up at his cousin’s voice as Merrill scampered back to her pile, and noticed her holding the earrings. She was smiling, eyes shining happily. “I love them.”

He flushed and just held his arms out, and she laughed, bending down and pulling him into a hug.

“Where on _Thedas_ did you find this?” Varric’s voice was bright with surprise, and both Hawkes looked over to see him holding his signet ring. “Bartrand pawned it off to pay for the expedition… I can’t believe you found it.” The dark brown eyes looked up to fix Garrett in an amused glance, one eyebrow raised. “This sounds exactly like the sort of _fake_ thing I’d make up about you.” Garrett flushed, but chuckled.

“When you tell people, mention that he got it from the belly of a dragon.” Marian added in, eyes sly. Varric grinned at her, nodding.

“I’ll throw in a couple of werewolves and a griffin for balance.” He agreed. Garrett just sighed, rolling his eyes, and Bethany giggled, and then turned to her own gift. “Hmm… well, maybe now my contact at the gates of Orzammar won’t ignore my letters.” He said thoughtfully, and then sighed, giving a little shrug. “Harrowmont is hoping that if he just shuts his eyes tight and wishes, the real world will go away.”

“Harrow…mont?” Merrill pronounced carefully, frowning.

“Yeah.” Varric made a face. “King of Orzammar.” He looked down at the ring again, and then tightened his fingers around it. His eyes once again found Garrett’s, and he gave a grateful nod. “I owe you one, Hawke.”

“Gare, how did you…” Bethany spoke next, before Garrett had a chance to reply to the dwarf; He flushed and nodded back at Varric quickly before turning to her, only to see that she was holding an old and yet remarkably well preserved painting. It was of medium size, the age fading the canvass slightly( but thankfully not the pigments of the paint) as it rested in a golden frame. The picture inside was of a woman, familiar to them all, but much younger than she was then. “This is Mother.”

He flushed, and nodded.

“Carver and I went to the old estate.” He explained. Her eyes shone with tears as she looked between her two brothers.

“Thank you for this.” She said. “I can’t wait to show her.”

“You’re welcome.” He replied. Carver wanted to hate how… brotherly Garrett looked, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t. He imagined he was looking at Bethany much the same way.

“Alright, who’s next?” Isabela called, and Varric shrugged.

“Why not?” He replied, everyone reached for his gifts. Carver frowned and Anders, noticing, asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Not that I really want to know, but what did Garrett get Fenris?”

“He asked me to wait until later.” Fenris replied, sending the Hawke a raised eyebrow, and Garrett flushed.

“I… uhm.”

“Ooooh, Varric… you _dirty_ bastard.” Isabela’s voice was wicked with glee, a leather bound book in her hand.

“What is it?” Merrill asked, resting her chin on Isabela’s shoulder and peering at the pages. Her eyes widened. “Oh, goodness!” Bethany joined them, worming her way under the pirate’s arms and reading for a moment before breaking into snots of laughter.

“Is this… _friend fiction?”_ She cackled, eyes shooting to Garrett. He frowned.

“What?”

“Nothing!” She shook her head. Isabela was flipping through the pages, still grinned gleefully, and then sent Varric an appreciative nod.

“This is every paring we ever considered.” She appraised, and he nodded.

“I only wanted to give the best, after all.”

“Maker save us all.” Anders rolled his eyes, and then tore into his bag from the dwarf. Carver did the same, and found moments later that he and Bethany had gotten similar gifts – twin journals, one dark green and one a dark red, tied with a ribbon around the middle. It was an odd gift, but… Well, he supposed he could use it. His twin, on the other hand, was talking to him animatedly about all the uses she could think of and thanking him profusely; he sighed and looked to Anders, only to see him staring down at… a piece of paper? He frowned.

“What’s that?” The mage didn’t move for a second. Then he slowly looked up at Varric, eyes wide.

“How did you…”

Varric just winked.

“What?” Carver repeated, but Anders shook his head.

“I’ll show you later.”

Carver frowned, but chose acceptance, looking over to where Merrill was holding a map that appeared to be enchanted, something about forests and herbs, and then to Garrett – in his hands was a book, very old, with a rune carved on the front.

“What in the name of the Maker is that?” He muttered.

“A spell book.” Garrett’s eyes were wide. Fenris huffed beside him; he gave a little frown of disapproval. “It’s for healing and useful things like that, not black magic.”

“Can you promise me there is not a spell for summoning demons in there? Fenris questioned in response. Garrett remained silent.

Carver turned away, not caring to hear more.

“Alright, who’s left?” Bethany asked, and all eyes turned to Carver and Anders. They stared at each other; Anders shrugged.

“I suppose I am.” He replied. Carver flushed.

He didn’t want to be _last…_

But it was too late – people were already reaching for the small bags that were near them, reaching inside to unveil the mage’s gifts. Carver sighed and sent him a little glare; Anders chuckled.

“I figured we could save the best for last.” He murmured low enough that the others couldn’t hear. Carver flushed bright pink and shoved his shoulder away, reaching for his own small bag.

“You didn’t have to do anything for me.” He grunted, untying the ribbons at the top. “You already…” He paused, trailing off, the rest of his sentence hanging in the air. _The knives… they had to have been expensive._ He thought. With as good quality as they were…

“Oh, it’s fine – I wanted to.” Anders shrugged, and smiled. “Go on, open it. It’s nothing big, if that makes you feel better, I promise.” He rolled his eyes.

Carver sighed and reached in the bag. He frowned, feeling a small bundle of hard, smooth objects; when he pulled them out, he realized it was Mabari canines, threaded together on a chain. He frowned.

“Uhm…”

“…what is this?” Bethany finished, holding a green stone in her hand that had a rope twisted around it in secure knots and then tied in a loop, making it a necklace. It was pretty, with beads strewn up and down the sides, but it was also just… random. Everyone around the room was holding some similar bizarre object or another – Garrett’s was what looked like a scale of some sort that was a dark turquoise color; Merrill’s was a nug’s foot on a decorative chain; Varric’s was what honestly just looked like an engraved rock; Isabela’s looked like some type of glorified shard of glass; Marian's resembled a pile of blue-green marbles; even Fenris,  to Carver’s surprise, held one as well – some sort of old coin? The elf shifted his glare to Anders.

“Did you give us all trash for gifts?” He asked dryly. Anders made a sour face.

 _”No,_ I did not.” He replied. “They’re healing pendants! Each one is specialized for its bearer, and it should offer some level of protection and provide faster rejuvenation while it’s near or on you.” He glared. “Of course, if you don’t want it-“

“He does!” Garrett answered quickly, cutting off the elf’s retort. “We all do… this is fantastic, Anders. Thank you.” His eyes were earnest, and open. Anders’s returning smile was soft, and it made Carver’s chest ache in a way he hated.

“You’re welcome.” The mage said.

Carver just grit his teeth and looked away, unable to stand the way he was staring at Garrett – with that doe-eyed, puppy-dogged face adoration that he _knew_ Garrett would never comprehend or return.

“Now if you happen to grievously break any bones,” Anders’s voice was suddenly speaking over his shoulder into his ear, again low enough the others couldn’t hear, “it should only take two weeks to heal instead of a month.”

He could hear the laugh in the mage’s whisper, and despite the bitter taste still in his mouth it made his face flush.

“Asshole blackmailing mage.” He grunted back, and this time Anders’ laugh was audible, catching Isabela’s eyes. She watched the two of them a minute and smiled; then she turned back and helped Bethany pull the cord around her neck – and if her fingers trailed along the warm skin of the Hawke’s back for a moment longer than necessary, no one said anything about it.

“Alright, last but not least…” Marian said suddenly, a grin in place and her hands on her hips, “Carver.”

He glared at her.

She smirked back at him.

He shrugged, flushing slightly, and said, “Go ahead.”

Everyone reached for their gifts, and he held his breath. There was a pause for a moment that to him seemed to last for all eternity – then the calm broke, and everyone began talking all at once.

Garrett was holding the brass pocket watch and staring at him – as was Fenris, a small sort of amused quirk in the elf’s eyebrow – and he pointed at it.

“Now if you’re ever late again, you have no excuse.” He stated flatly.

Garrett reached over and pulled his brother into a very unexpected one-armed bear hug, and suddenly there was a beard scratching his neck and a nose sniffling in his ear.

“Thank you, Carver.” Garrett said, and he turned pink, sitting still for only a moment before wiggling to get free.

“Yeah, yeah… thank me when you actually get to dinner on time, for once.” He replied, but there was less bite to his voice than usual, and Garrett smiled. A second later, his attention was stolen by Bethany and Merrill’s excited voices, calling his name from across their circle. He turned to them and was met with two giant smiles.

“This is _adorable!”_ Bethany cried, holding a life-sized wooden nug carving in her hands, and Merrill agreed with a shake of her head, the half-a-foot statue of a Halla cradled in her arms.

“The work is amazing! They look so real!” She said, examining the eyes. “It’s like I can see into his soul!”

“I’m calling her Britta.” Bethany said decisively. Merrill nodded in approval.

“I like that name! Hmm… what should I call him?” She held her statue out.

“Carver.” Isabela got his attention next, the ship-in-a-bottle he’d made sitting carefully on her lap. “This is hella awesome.” She grinned, and he flushed, nodding.

“Good.” He muttered. “It was a hell of a pain to put it together.” She laughed.

“This…” Marian’s voice was quiet, but it got everyone’s attention – it wavered, shaking slightly, and Carver flushed. When he looked at her, the blue in her eyes was shining with threatening tears. “This is beautifiul.” In her hands, there was a tree – on each branch, there was a name engraved – the names of her siblings on one set, the names of her cousins on another; Leandra and her mother’s name on the two main boughs; and her name, on the trunk. There were leaves on the end, each one precise and intricate – it’d taken him _hours_ of work, and several days he’d fallen asleep in Anders’s clinic trying to finish it. But Marian had always been… more like a sister than anything, when they were small, and of all the people he was related to, she was the one who he felt understood him most (in stark contrast to Garrett). He wanted this to be special – and from the look on her face, he could tell it was. 

“I… am glad you like it.” He replied gruffly. She snuffed, hugging it to her chest, and rolled her eyes.

“Get over here, you.” She reached out her other arm and pulled him into a half hug, half head lock. He protested – but not really. And if there was more of a smile on his face than usual, no one said anything about it.

She was pulled away from her awkward embrace by Carver’s twin, however, asking to see, and soon everyone was clamoring over each other to get a look at the priceless work of art. During the scuffle, Carver caught Varric’s eyes – in the dwarf’s hands was a wooden ink well, made of material so dark it was almost black, as well as a somewhat fancy quill he’d found for him. Varric smiled at him and gave a little nod, and then the moment was gone and Carver’s attention was again stolen by yet another one of the eight other people in his living room – the last to open his present, as it happened.

“I love this.” Anders was holding a coffee cup in his hands; Carver flushed.

“It’s to replace the one I broke.” He muttered. There were cats carved into the front of it, two of them, playing with a ball of yarn. The handle was another cat, stretching along the side of the cup. He’d had to soak it for several days to make sure it would be able to hold liquid, and then compress the wood down enough to make it thick and sturdy. “That one shouldn’t ever shatter, and if it does I’ll set the bastard who breaks it on fire.” It was lined with a water proof sealant on the inside as well – long story short, that cup should be able to survive an apocalypse should the need arise.

Before he knew it, Carver was dragged into yet another hug – for some reason, this one was by far the warmest, for which he chose to blame the mage’s fluffy jacket neck – and he sighed in resignation, not even bothering to put up a fight as his arms slid around the Mage’s back.

“Merry Satinalia, Carver.” Anders whispered, and Carver could hear the smile in his voice. He hesitated, and then sighed, allowing (against his better judgement) a small smile to creep onto his own face, buried in the feathers of the jacket.

“Merry Satinalia.” He replied.

 

* * *

 

 

Marian smiled at her cousin, arms wrapped around her old friend’s waist, in his own little world as he completely forgot everyone else was in the room; she, Isabela, and Bethany traded knowing glances, and Isabela sent Varric a little smirk, tapping her leather-bound book of friend-fiction. He grinned in return and gave a little nod.

Garrett, however, was just staring.

In shock.

Because Carver didn’t give _hugs._

“Wha-“ he started, but got an elbow from Fenris and a, “shh!!” from his little sister. He turned to the elf in confusion – Fenris just looked tired, and exasperated, shaking his head, a small sigh slipping from his lips. The others turned to their own conversations as Carver and Anders pulled away from each other, still barely realizing they’d had an audience; meanwhile, Garrett reached for the final unwrapped package in the room, fingers trembling with nervous anticipation. Fenris’s eyes widened as he shoved it towards him. “Uhm, this is for you.” He squeaked. Slender hands took the somewhat messily wrapped package and tore into the brown paper around it, only to reveal the book of paintings.

Fenris stilled, and Garrett found he couldn’t breathe.

“It’s, um… well, I just… thought maybe that… uhm.” He swallowed thickly as Fenris opened the cover, staring at the art with a blank expression, completely motionless aside from the turning of the page and the shallow breaths that moved his chest ever so slightly in and out. He spent a few moments looking at each picture, eyes scanning over it, bouncing across each detail of the paint, before flipping to the next one and repeated the process over again. Each shift of his gaze made Garrett’s heart beat faster – Bethany (who was leaning on Isabela’s right shoulder, while Merrill leaned on the left) watched the two of them out of the corner of her eye, curiosity tickling her senses.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Fenris reached the last painting. He didn’t close the book; instead he just sat there, staring at the scene before him. It was of a mountainous countryside, the sky dark and tinted blue-green, clouds floating hazily above the ground; He tapped the page.

“I’ve been here.” He said, deep voice raspy and distant. Garrett blinked.

“What?”

“While with the Fog Warriors…” Fenris replied, offering no more explanation. Finally he looked up, meeting Garrett’s gaze – his eyes were filled with emotion, brighter than usual and filled with memories. “Thank you.”

Garrett’s ears reddened.

“Y-you’re welcome.” He squeaked a reply. “I’m glad you like it.”

And then Fenris smiled.

It was small – barely there, but still.

Garrett could hardly believe it. He split into a happy grin of his own, and looked around the room. Carver had finally pulled away from Anders, face flushed bright pink as he too looked around, realizing how many people had witnessed the moment, but he looked happy too – and Anders, too, was smiling, a wide happy smile, and his eyes were soft as he leaned back on his arms, staring at the back of the younger Hawke’s head. Isabela, Bethany, and Merrill were still crashed in a pile of limbs and varying lengths of sweater sleeves, whispering to each other and Varric, who was leaning in closer to them to hear; the two younger girls were giggling, while the other and Varric were just grinning at each other. Marian met his eyes; she knew what he was seeing.

Everyone he cared about, in a room together, smiling. Happy. Safe.

And, out of all the gifts he’d gotten that day – even the stuffed dog, which to be honest was a close second – that, right there, his _family_ around him, sharing this moment…

Well, that was the best gift of all.


	21. In Which Aveline Gets Some Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So,this is the last chapter of the christmas arc, but honestly it's been so much fun working with these characters and picking out gifts for everyone! 
> 
> We can't leave Aveline or Leandra out of all the fun though, and perhaps everyone still has a few surprises up their sleeves...

“Alright!” Isabela clapped her hands suddenly, quieting down all the conversations that’d been bouncing around the room. It’d been about fifteen minutes since the gift-giving had ceased, and Carver jumped, surprised by the sudden noise cracking through the room, and then grimaced as he heard a certain mage behind him only half-succeed in choking back a laugh. He glared over his shoulder at Anders; the mage just raised an eyebrow at him. “This party isn’t over yet!”

Carver frowned, looking around – Marian had disappeared at some point along with Bethany, but when he’d asked where they’d gone to, Anders had only shaken his head, just as confused as he was.

“What do you mean?” Merrill asked in excitement.

“Aveline informed us she didn’t want to be a part of festivities due to lack of Satinalia spirit.” Isabela said – they’d all known that for weeks, so none of them had gone shopping for her. “But we decided that no one should be alone on Satinalia, so we’ve arranged for a little dinner at her house this evening.”

Carver’s eyes shot to Garrett, who was smiling in excitement.

“You knew.” He stated. His older brother shrugged. “How did you manage to keep that a secret?” Carver frowned. “You’re horrible at keeping secrets.”

“Hey!” Garrett replied indignantly.

“Anyways,” Isabela cut them off with a roll of her eyes, “Leandra, Marian and Bethy are at the Hawke house gathering up the food.”

“So _that’s_ why mother didn’t want to come!” Carver’s eyes widened. When Leandra had informed him she wouldn’t be accompanying the group to Fenris’s stolen Mansion for Satinalia gift giving, he’d been very confused – usually that’d be the type of thing she’d be all over. He’d been concerned it was because…

Well, because Satinalia’s without Malcolm had never been easy for her.

But no – he should have known better. The only reason she’d miss it is if she were doing something nice for someone else: for instance, cooking dinner for all of them.

“Now, before we head over, there’s a very important person who hasn’t received any gifts yet…” Isabela continued, looking at Carver and Garrett. “Your mother isn’t expected much from the rest of us, but we figured with as much as she puts up with us, it was the least we could do.”

Carver’s eyes widened, and he shared a confused glance with Garrett.

“You… all got something for Mother?” He asked, then turning to Anders. The mage’s expression was soft, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Mmm.” He nodded affirmation. “We all chipped in on it.”

Garrett looked like he was going to cry - and Carver would be lying if he said his chest didn’t get warm. Leandra… she’d been through so much.

That she’d have something special from more than just family…

“Thank you.” Garrett spoke for them both. Isabela nodded.

“Sure thing.” She replied. “Issue is, none of the Hawke ladies getting the food know there’s a gift for her, so we have to make it there before they leave, but after the food is done – if I timed it correctly, that should be about when we’d arrive if we head out now. So,” She grinned, “Everyone up! Grab your things, we’re heading to the Hawke house!”

Carver looked down at the variants of gifts at his feet and winced.

“How am I going to…” He muttered.

“We’re all wondering the same thing.” Anders replied with a little laugh.

Eventually, through some miracle of the Maker, they all got their items piled safely in their arms – Garrett’s “external pocket bag” came in handy, as it turned out, which he was honestly way too excited about – and not too much longer after that they were on their way. As they were walking, however, Anders grabbed Carver’s arm.

“Hold on.” He murmured. “Follow me.” Carver frowned, looking between the retreating group of people, and the mage, who was disappearing down a side alley. Then he sighed and followed after him, trotting a bit to catch up.

“Where are we going?” he questioned.

“The clinic.” Anders replied. “We’ll have to be fairly fast about it – your mother’s gift is there.” Carver stopped dead in his tracks.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He said flatly.

“Oh, shush, its mostly on the way.” Anders rolled his eyes. “Besides, I know a few short cuts.”

“How are we even going to carry it?” Carver groaned, beginning to move again. “My arms are pretty full.”

“Leave your things in the clinic.” Anders shrugged, and there was a pause, as if he were debating what to say next. Then he took a breath and offered a small, teasing grin. “You’re there enough I’m sure you’ll find time to pick them all up.”

Was it just Carver, or was there a touch of uncertainty in the mage’s eyes?

Carver sighed.

“I suppose you make a point.” He conceded, and Anders’s shoulders dropped an inch as he broke into an amused chuckle.

As they walked, they talked about Satinalia and how bare everything looked – Kirkwall was evidentially not a place of high festivities around the holidays – and Carver told Anders a bit more about what Satinalia had been like in Fereldan. The entire city would have banners hung and everyone would be out to see them, shaking hands with strangers that other times in the year none would have given any head too; when Carver had been little, people he’d passed would give him coins just because he was a child, and Marian and her siblings would all try to guess what was in the boxes in the living room – they didn’t have much, so most times there was only one gift per child, especially since there was so many of them, but none of them ever complained because Malcom and Leandra would make sure each one was special. There’d be masks of all different shapes and colors on everyone’s faces, usually home-made with the family’s crest somewhere on the front – Bethany and Leandra loved making them together.

It’d been many years since those times, though. He missed them…

“So…” Carver paused, and then looked at Anders curiously. “What about you?”

There was a pause, and Anders sighed.

“I’ve had a wide range of Satinalia experiences.” The mage said carefully. “Some better than others.” Carver frowned, and waited. There was a second pause, and Anders glanced at the warrior; then he started laughing. “Could you possibly look any more curious?” He teased, and Carver scowled.

“Fine, never mind, then-“

“My mother…” Anders cut him off, and Carver instantly grew silent.

He’d… never heard Anders talk of his family before. It took him a moment to continue, and when he did his eyes were sad.

“My mother loved Satinalia.” He said softly. “There would always be gifts in the living room when I woke up in the morning, and we’d spend a whole week making the masks together with the other families in the village.”

Carver was almost afraid to speak – this was not something he’d never heard Anders even acknowledge existing, much less openly talk about. He was afraid he’d say something that would close the barely open door Anders’s past was beginning to peak out of, and Maker take him but… well, he was curious. So, cautiously, he asked, “Were there a lot of others, then? In the village?”

“Mmm.” Anders shrugged. “Not particularly. It was fairly small, but all of the people there were… close.” He wasn’t looking at Carver, just staring at the ground in front of him with that same sad smile on his face. “They were like family.”

There wasn’t much more to say after that. Carver could hardly breathe; still, he forced himself to inhale slowly, and then exhale, and then say, “Things were a lot simpler when we were younger, weren’t they?”

Finally golden eyes met his – their gazes locked, and he stared firmly at the mage before him. Anders looked somewhat surprised; then he broke into a little laugh, which honestly made Carver’s chest grow warm.

“Yeah.” Anders nodded in agreement. “No kidding.”

They kept walking. The silence that lingered now wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly, more of just… unfinished. Carver frowned, trying to think of what to say. He looked around at the cobble stone streets surrounding him, the people walking by that hardly noted their passing. He looked at the sky, a pale blue with a few grey clouds, and at the curtains on houses blowing in the chilled breeze. Then he looked down, at the gifts in his arms, each one special and picked out by people that… he honestly never would have dreamed he’d have met. And that thought was what prompted him to smile slightly, and nudge the mage’s shoulder as they walked. He knew Anders saw him smiling.

At that moment, he didn’t particularly care.

“It was easier back then,” He repeated, and then turned his gaze towards the mage, “But…” He paused, flushing slightly. Anders raised an eyebrow.

“But?” He prompted. Carver shrugged.

“But now… Now isn’t so bad.” He said, his flush deepening as he realized how cheesy that sounded. “You know, in comparison with… uhm, other things. The rest of it. You know.” _Ugh, I should just… stop talking._ He thought with an internal groan.

Anders paused in his walking, however, stopping to just look at him in surprise for the second time. If Carver didn’t know better, he’d say the mage’s eyes looked a bit glassy as he split into a wide grin.

“You know, Carver,” He said, starting to move again, maybe a few inches closer than he had been before, but if their shoulders happened to brush while they walked neither of them brought it up, “You might just be right about that.” 

* * *

 

Leandra, Marian, and Bethany were all in the kitchen, just getting ready to pack things up for transport, when the rest of the party barged through the door. Isabela had made them all loiter about for a while outside, giving Anders and Carver time to catch up in hopefully not too long, before shoving into Gamlen’s small house and loudly announcing their presence.

“What are you doing here?” Marian frowned in confusion as they all dropped their things on the couch. “The plan was to meet at Aveline’s.”

“Yes, that was what I told you, wasn’t it.” Isabela’s eyes sparkled. “But the rest of us have a little surprise… could you spend a moment, or would something get burnt?”

“Everything is just being kept warm.” Leandra shook her head, wiping her hands on a towel. “Is there something wrong?”

“Of course not.” The Rivainian laughed. “Now, Ms. Hawke, if you’ll please come sit down.” She gestured at the couch. Leandra frowned in confusion.

“Alright.” She did as she was asked. “And please, call me Leandra.”

“The boys should be here any minute with-“ Isabela started, right as the door opened and Anders’s head popped in. “Ah! There they are now.” She grinned. “Anders, why don’t you come in here for a moment?” The mage nodded and leaned out the door for a moment, then came all the way inside, going to stand next to the Rivanian.

“What’s going on?” Leandra asked, confused.

“We wanted to thank you.” Anders said kindly. “You don’t get near enough credit for what you do to help our little ragtag group survive, even if it’s just giving these crazy Hawkes somewhere to come home to.”

“And you’re always so nice!” Merrill added happily. “I’ve yet to meet anyone else in Kirkwall who’s quite as kind as you are.”

“You put up with a lot of crap.” Varric admitted. “Makers knows how you’re still standing, with as much as we miscreants put you through.”

“We wanted to show we appreciate all that you do.” Isabela said, noting Bethany’s wide, proud smile from her over mother’s shoulder. “So this gift is from all of us… We hope it helps remind you of home.”

Anders slipped outside again, only to reappear a moment later with Carver, carrying between them an ornate gilded jewelry box, several feet tall, with drawers on the front and cabinets on the side and a mirror above that stood up when the lever was released; a gasp slipped from Leandra’s throat, and Garrett stared.

“When did you…” He turned to Fenris, who just shrugged.

“We made a trip back one day.” He deflected.

Garrett, Carver, Fenris, and Varric had… _sort of_ broken into the old Amell estate at one point. Or maybe two points…

There was a time, not long after they’d met Anders actually, that Carver and Garrett had gone to break into the old estate in order to find the will – Gamlen had tried to spout some nonsense about Leandra not even being in the Will, which of course was a lie. It’d been Garrett’s idea, actually, to go back to the Estate to find something special for his family for the holiday. The group had passed the old antique, but hadn’t been able to carry it out, and weren’t sure how to be inconspicuous about carrying it around; it’d been a hard decision, but Garrett had decided to leave it behind.

But there it was, in the living room, sitting before a watery-eyed Leandra whose hands were clasped in front of her lips as a little gasp slipped from her throat.

“This…” She said, reaching a hand out to touch it, “this was my mother’s.” her fingers brushed gently along the old wooden surface. “Where did you…”

“Merry Satinalia, Leandra.” Isabela said, a warm smile on her face as Bethany leaned into her shoulder. Everyone smiled, and a chorus of “Merry Satinlia”’s ran around the room. Garrett just stared back and forth between his friends, the jewelry box, and his mother, still unable to even comprehend the reality of it being there.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

When he looked over, he met deep green eyes, partially hidden by the tips of white hair, and his breath caught. Fenris didn’t say anything; he didn’t have to.

Garrett smiled.

For a split second, barely even there, Fenris smiled back.

“Thank you.” Leandra got to her feet, pulling those closest to her – Isabela and Anders as it happened – into tight, one armed embraces. “You have no idea what this means to me.” Her voice was full of emotion, and for once it was joy instead of exhaustion or sadness pervading her speech.

“You’re welcome.” Anders replied happily. Leandra pulled back, looking at them all and taking a moment to dab water from her cheeks, and then said, “Well, believe it or not you are not the only ones with a surprise.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously, and Anders couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?” Carver frowned.

“It’s just…” Anders shrugged. “She looked like Marian just then.”

Carver made a face.

“Garrett, Carver, can you both follow me?” She asked, and, after a shrug to one another the two brothers left the room, returning a moment later with packages and baskets all nicely wrapped with bows and ribbons. Bethany and Merrill both gasped in excitement; Leandra laughed. “I have gifts for you all, too!”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” Isabela purred, eyes lighting on a basket which held a bottle of desert wine and a few carefully wrapped boxes. Leandra winked and handed it to her with a little nod.

Each of her children’s’ friends got a basket, in fact, all with some sort of food or desert inside – Isabela’s boxes held alcohol-infused chocolates, with which she was very enthused, to no one’s surprise but everyone’s amusement.  Anders’s held several jars of variously colors salts from all over Thedas, and a canister of homemade soup. Merrill’s had chocolate covered fruits and berries, along with some small glass containers of herbs. Fenris’s basket held apples and fruits as well, along with several rolls of various types of cheese – he raised his eyebrow at it, but there was an approving light in his eyes that only Garrett could see. Varric’s, like Isabela’s, also held wine, along with some variated sliced cheeses and bushels of green and red grapes. Everyone was excited, and Anders teasingly complained about all of it making him hungry, it looked and smells so fantastic.

“Oh, dinner will be soon anyways.” Leandra rolled her eyes with a laugh. She looked towards her children, and said, “Should I also hand out yours?”

They looked at each other, and shrugged.

“If everyone is hungry-“ Garrett started, but Isabela cut him off.

“Oh, come now Kitten, you know we’re all far more curious than we are desperate to eat.” She teased, winking at him. Leandra laughed.

“Alright, I’ll be right back, then.”

“We’ve got to get ours as well.” Bethany added, and with that all the Hawkes left the room. There was a pause, and Isabela’s eyes lit on Fenris.

“Mmm…” she slid over to the elf’s side. “Those paintings were rather spectacular, weren’t they?” She asked casually. Fenris stared at her flatly. “What’s the matter?” He didn’t reply. “You know, he picked them out himself. No help necessary.”

Fenris blinked once, at that. Isabela laughed. Then she wandered to Anders; Marian slipped in on the other side, and both girls grinned at each other knowingly.

“Sooooo.” Isabela started innocently. “That hug back there.”

“What?” Anders frowned.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Carver willingly give a hug to someone.” Marian commented, and Isabela nodded.

“Exactly.”

“So?” Anders retorted.

“Andy, you’re full of bullshit and denial.” Marian stated plainly.

“You’re both one to talk.” He argued, but they both noticed the pink tint on his cheeks. He raised one eyebrow at Isabela. “You, Bethany, and Merrill seemed rather happy in your little pile of matching sweaters, hmm?”

“He’s got you there.” Varric chimed in.

She just gave them a wicked grin and a sly little wink.

Anders rolled his eyes, and Varric gave a hearty laugh.

“Was there something wrong with our pile?” Merrill frowned, confused. Isabela shook her head.

“Of course not, kitten.” She purred. “Anders is just avoiding the subject.”

“No I’m not.” He muttered.

“You kinda really are.” Marian shrugged, and he glared at her. Moments later, the Hawke family was returning, quickly ending the conversation. Carver returned to Anders’s side, and Anders prayed to Andraste the Hawke wouldn’t noticed the flustered motion of his hands as they hurriedly straightened his clothes.

“Why don’t you go first, Carver?” Bethany questioned, and the warrior stiffened.

“Uhm… alright.” He said, walking forwards to hand his package to his mother. His ears were pink, and Anders couldn’t help but smile, ducking his head so (hopefully) Marian and Isabela wouldn’t notice, because he could only imagine what they’d say…

“Oh, _Carver.”_ Leandra gasped, pulling out a wooden rectangle from the box. Anders frowned, and joined the others as they all crowded around to try to see what it was.

The front facing Leandra was raised, carved into a picture of a house, with children playing outside, and in the background stood two figures - Leandra was easily recognizable to those gathered… the other Anders could only assume was Malcolm Hawke. A mabari sat in the middle of the children, in the process of leaping for a ball they were throwing around. It was then Anders realized that must have been their home in Lothering. His chest grew warm as he sought out the second-youngest Hawke’s face (which was of course bright red with embarrassment) and blue eyes met his, filled with emotion.

And for once it wasn’t anger, or boredom, or sassiness. It was… something Anders couldn’t even put a name on. Pain, but also comfort, or perhaps longing, but also a sort of resignation… it was like he was torn between the life he’d had in the carving, the one in Lothering with all his cousins before darkspawn uprooted that life, and the life that he had now – the one with the friends gathered around him, a team of support, with his mother and siblings there, brought even closer together by tall that they’d endured.

“That’s beautiful.” Merrill whispered, and Isabela nodded. Bethany had tears in her eyes, and Garrett-

Well, Garrett did too.

Carver flushed.

“Right, well… who’s next?” He grumbled, desperate to get the attention off of himself. His mother shook her head and pulled him into a hug.

“I love you, Carver.” She said. He tensed, and then sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I… love you too, Mother.” He replied, face bright pink, but his words were honest. Isabela made a face at him behind Leandra’s back and he glared at her, eventually slipping out of the women’s embrace.

“Do you want mine or Garrett’s next, mother?” Bethany asked, and she chuckled.

“Why don’t you go, dear?” She asked. Bethany smiled brightly, clearly excited to give her gift, and handed her mother a large bag. It looked to be somewhat heavy, and Leandra laughed as she almost dropped it due to the unexpected weight. “Goodness! What’s in here?” She laughed, reaching inside.

Out came a quilt that was larger than the couch, hand-sewn by Bethany and Merrill. Patterned into the middle were blocky but artistic versions of the three Hawke children all holding hands – Leandra gasped as the three of them spread it out before her so she could see the design.

“Oh, Bethany it’s gorgeous!” She exclaimed, reaching a hand out to touch it. “This must have taken ages to make!”

Bethany beamed, eyes sparkling proudly, but she just shook her head.

“It was fun.” She replied. “And now it won’t be so cold in this house at night.”

“Oh, come here.” Leandra opened her arms and Bethany willingly entered their embrace, giving her mother a tight squeeze. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, Mother.” Bethany replied happily; Her gaze met Isabela’s, who gave a warm smile and an approving nod. As soon as her mother released her she went to the Rivanian’s side, while saying, “Alright, Garrett, your turn.”

Garrett’s eyes widened and he flushed slightly, and then nodded, walking towards his mother with two somewhat small rectangles in his hands. He handed the first one to her, and she smiled, tearing the paper off of it.

Inside was a painting, similar to the one he’d found for Bethany, only this had been a family portrait – Leandra and her siblings together in a grand living room with the fireplace burning. Leandra’s breath caught as she looked at it, tears welling in her eyes yet again.

“Oh…” the little word slipped out, but she didn’t seem able to say anything else for a moment. Her fingers traced over their faces, brushing across the familiar paint strokes as memories visibly swam through her head.  “I haven’t seen this in…” She trailed off, and then looked up at her son, cheeks wet. “My father… he did not exactly approve of Malcolm.” She said, a wistful smile coming to her face. “When I left, he took this down… I’d thought he’d destroyed it.” Garrett frowned, shaking his head.

“It was on the wall in the master bedroom.” He replied. That made her eyes widen, and then another smile came to her face.

“Their room.” She said in explanation. “I can’t believe it.” She set the painting aside and held out her arms. “Come here, all of you.” She motioned her children forwards; Garrett and Bethany were instantly in her arms, and Carver sighed but complied without much protest after them. “Thank you. These are all amazing.”

“Happy Satinalia, mother.” Garrett said, and she laughed.

“Happy Satinalia, dear.” She replied. After releasing them, she said, “Alright, my turn!” She turned to grab several items on the chairs behind her. One was a dark brown box, clasped with an old bronze lock; on top of it in a bag was a key, hung on a chain. These she handed to Carver. The next item was long, taller than her, and wrapped from top to bottom in brown paper – it went to Garrett, who frowned in curiosity. The third was a small box, which she placed in Bethany’s palms with a gentle smile; lastly she turned to Marian, holding out a box similar in size to Bethany’s but a bit heavier. “Alright, that’s all of them… now go!” She encouraged them. Carver’s eyes met Anders, and the mage shrugged. He watched as the warrior wiggled the key out of the bag and then into the lock, clicking open the box – a little puff of dust wafted off of it as he did so.

“What is it?” Anders asked, walking closer to look over the Hawke’s shoulder. Carver jumped, not expecting him to be right next to his ear, and then reddened.

Isabela noticed he didn’t pull away, though.

“I don’t…” Carver started, reaching in and pulling out sheets of paper that were old and yellowed with age, but stopped as he began scanning the words on the pages.

“They’re letters from the Templar who allowed your father to go free.” Leandra said. “Your namesake, Carver. I figured perhaps you might be interested to know who he was… why he was so important to your father and I, and why we chose to give you his legacy.”

Anders searched the Hawke’s face, noticing several conflicting emotions – fear, curiosity, and… anger? No, not anger exactly, more of… shock. Still, Carver met his mother’s gaze, swallowing and giving a nod.

“Thank you, Mother.” He said, and his voice was honest. The sound of tearing paper distracted him and he turned to see Garrett staring wide-eyed at the familiar staff held in his grasp. “That…”

“…was Father’s, yes.” Bethany finished for him, her eyes just as lit with shock. “I didn’t realize we still had it.”

“I brought it when we came from Fereldan.” Leandra smiled. “I didn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands… I figured the best way to do that would be to put it into the right ones.” She nodded at her son. “Use it well, Garrett. And promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise, mother.” Garrett replied, words catching slightly. His fist was closed tightly around the dark wood of the staff, the energy thrumming through his fingers. Fenris gave it a disapproving glare, but otherwise said nothing – Anders rolled his eyes.

Bethany and Marian both opened their boxes, and gave almost identical gasps of surprise. In the latter’s, there was an old ring, still shining and encrusted with gems; the other held earrings and a necklace, engraved with the Amell crest. Both were worth a fortune. “They’re _beautiful.”_ Bethany whispered.

“Those are both heirlooms passed down from my great grandmother.” Leandra smiled at them. “They’ve been protected by Amell women for almost two centuries.”

Marian slipped the ring out of the box and held it in her palm, turning it left and right to examine it. Then she closed her fingers around it, smiling brightly.

“Thank you, Aunt Leandra. I will treasure it always.” Bethany nodded in agreement. Anders waited for a moment, and then chuckled to himself as the inevitable third Hawke Family group hug kicked in, Leandra gathering her children and her niece close to her as their arms wrapped around her.

“Awwwww.” Isabela cooed.

“Alright.” Leandra laughed, pulling back. “Shall we head to dinner, then?”

“Finally.” Carver muttered, and Anders laughed, nudging his shoulder.

“We can help carry the food.” The mage offered, and Leandra nodded in agreement. Everyone filed into the kitchen – it all smelled amazing, and Anders’s stomach growled longingly – and picked up the various dishes the Hawkes had prepared. Then, following Garrett (how fitting, Carver couldn’t help but think) they all left the house, ensuring the door locked behind them before heading down the path to Aveline’s home.

She lived in a little place near the Barracks, or so Varric informed them – upon being questioned when he’d been to Aveline’s house, the dwarf just shrugged and offered a teasing smile. Carver wasn’t sure what to make of that, so he chose to ignore it.

“So, those letters.” Anders said, walking along side him. Carver shifted his gaze sideways, and then nodded.

“I’m curious.” He replied simply. “I… always have been.”

“That’s understandable.” Anders nodded. There was a pause. Then he said, “I didn’t know a Templar helped your father escape.” Carver nodded.

“Sir Maurevar Carver.” He said. “He allowed my father to see mother while they were… courting.” He made a face. Anders laughed, and the warrior flushed. “A-anyway, him and my father were apparently good friends… He even helped steal my dad’s Phylactory. He trusted my dad with his magic… and he knew he loved Mother.”

“He sounds like a good man.” Anders said softly. Carver stared at him a moment, and then blushed an even deeper shade of pink and nodded, looking away, only to see Isabela, Bethany, and Marian staring at the two of them from across the path. As he met their gazes they turned away, giggling amongst one another; he sighed.

“Why…” He muttered under his breath.

“Hmm?” Anders frowned, confused.

Carver just shook his head and kept walking.

A while later – long enough that all their stomachs were audibly growling and Anders was complaining that his feet hurt – they finally made it to the small home. There was a light on in the window, but no decorations stood out front. Merrill frowned.

“I wonder if Aveline is alright.” She commented.

“She’s going to be just fine.” Isabela replied firmly, and then marched forwards and kicked the door with her boot, announcing their presence with a purr, “Aaaaaveline! I know you’re in their big girl, come on open up!”  There was a pause, and then some shuffling, and then finally the door was pulled back, revealing…

Revealing Aveline, with red eyes and wet cheeks. There was a picture frame in her hands. Carver’s eyes widened, and he met Anders’s shocked gaze. For a long moment, no one said anything.

Then, setting the basket of bread and meat she’d been carrying on the ground, Isabela walked up the steps and pulled the warrior into a silent hug. It wasn’t long before the others were following suit, setting down their gifts and flocking to the pile of arms. Carver stood there awkwardly on the outside along with Fenris – the two of them avoided looking at each other – until the group dispersed with Aveline’s surprised, “What… are all of you doing here? What’s all this food?”

“We know you said you didn’t want to celebrate Satinalia or get any gifts,” Merrill started, and Isabela nodded in agreement, finishing, “but not even you could turn down a dinner with friends, right?”

Aveline’s features softened until she was breaking into a small smile, and then a light laugh. She nodded her head, waving them towards the entrance. “Andraste knows where we’ll put all of it but come in, of course I won’t say no to this… oh, it smells wonderful!” she looked at all of them, tears again springing to her eyes, but this time they were from relief, and happiness. “Thank you. All of you.”

“You’re welcome, Aveline.” Garrett replied with his own smile.

“Alright, I’ve carried this food long enough!” Varric announced. “I’m ready to _eat_ it!”

A chorus of agreement rang out from those in their group, and together they brought all the dishes in, balancing them on her counters and kitchen table (and also the coffee table and dresser for good measure) before grabbing plates and digging in.

It was nothing short of amazing. Everything about it – the laughter ringing around the room, the food worthy of royalty, the smiles spreading easy as butter on all their faces. Conversation never stopped, whether it was teasing Anders about eating more than he should or Varric for drinking more than he should, or Merrill for not eating enough, or Fenris being chilly in his bare arms, or Isabela and her somewhat inappropriate suggestions (that even Leandra had to laugh at), and Garrett couldn’t help but just stop and look around, taking a step out of the moment to think just how amazing it was, how _far_ they’d come to reach that moment.

Water welled in the corner of his eye.

_I love them all so much._ He thought, warm tingles spreading down his spine as he surveyed his friends… no, his _family_.

“Garrett, if you look any sappier, I’m going to have to instigate a group hug.” Marian informed him from across the room. He blinked in surprise.

“What?” he asked, but it was too late – everyone was already rushing towards him. Merrill was the first one in, closely followed by Marian, both their arms wrapping tightly around him.

“Not again…” Carver groaned, but then there was a warm hand on his forearm tugging him towards the swarm of adults and he rolled his eyes in exasperation. Anders laughed, his hand sliding from Carver’s arm to around his shoulders once they were among the others; Bethany appeared behind them, shoving them even tighter in as one of Isabela’s arms snaked around her waist while the other looped around Varric to prod Aveline forwards, and Carver protested (but not really) as they all gathered around his brother – even Leandra joined in, on the outside, laughing with shining eyes as she saw just how happy and well-loved her children were.  

That left one man standing outside the circle, and after a pause all eyes turned to him. Garrett flushed; Isabela frowned. “I’m not surprised…” Carver whispered, and Anders held back a snort of amusement. The Hawke coughed as his twin’s elbow met his stomach.

“Oh, come now, Fenris, don’t be like that.” Isabela purred, beckoning Fenris forwards. “It’s Satinalia. Indulge me.” Carver rolled his eyes, certain there was no way the elf would join them, watching as he glared at her.

Then the man sighed, rolled his eyes, and walked into the center of the hug through the tunnel that the Rivanian created for him. As Fenris walked past him, Carver’s eyes widened in shock, because he _knew_ that wasn’t a smile – yes, an honest-by-the-Maker _smile_ he’d seen on the elf’s face…

His brother beamed, wrapped an arm around Fenris’s shoulder (careful to avoid the shoulder spikes) and let out a loud, joyful woop of excitement; Carver just shook his head.

Then he jumped as a chorus of voices echoed Garrett, shouting loud enough to be heard in the streets by anyone walking past. Once the hug had dispersed and Garrett was freed from the middle, he just stood there beaming – he’d laughed when the others copied his cheer, and then had watched as they broke off into little hugs of their own, but Fenris stayed right there at his side, and nothing could be more perfect. Garrett looked at him, and then out as his friends, laughing and dancing around the room.

_I owe them everything._ He thought, chest warming. _This is… perfect._

“Yes.” Fenris murmured, and Garrett jumped – he hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.  He looked at the elf, who to his surprise, still had a small smile on his face. “You’re quite right. It is perfect.”

Off on the side, near the outskirts of what had been their group hug, Anders too was chuckling merrily, patting Carver’s shoulder with a hand that then snaked around his neck as the circle broke apart, and Carver really didn’t even realize it until he had a face full of feathers, and honestly…

He couldn’t bring himself to care, this time, because _everyone_ was hugging and it just… it felt right. He felt Anders sigh contentedly near his ear, and, Andraste strike him where he stood, Carver hid his nose in the feathers and let a smile creep onto his face.

“This is all because of you.” He said, not accusingly, in a voice low enough that only the mage could hear. “You and your stubborn magey butt.”

“I told you.” Anders grinned, pulling back for a moment. “Satinalia, Carver. It’s happening.” It was then he caught the full on smile on the warrior’s face, and Carver knew he saw it but he didn’t care.

“Yeah.” Carver replied. “You did…” He nudged the mage’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Anders’ honey gold eyes were filled with something Carver couldn’t place, and didn’t care to think about – he just stood there, smiling, the mage’s arm around his neck still. Anders swallowed, his cheeks tinted pink.

“You’re welcome, Carver.” He replied, voice soft. “Merry Satinalia.”

Carver chuckled, dropping his head back onto the mage’s puff of feathers once more.

“Yeah.” He agreed. “Merry Satinalia, Anders.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed that, there's more coming! I'll update it when i get the chance, I promise~
> 
> Also, special thanks to bookishTomato to proofreading all my stuff and dealing with my middle-of-the-night spazzing about these dorks!!! (for the record, I'm into this ship because of her) 
> 
> ***NOTE: SUPER EXCITING NEWS*** We now have a joint tumblr account where we'll be posting artwork and occasionally little blurbs of writing or ideas, so check us out at https://tabletpensandbookends.tumblr.com/if you're interested! Thanks so much for keeping up with the story, it means a lot to me~
> 
> Have a great week, and see you next time!!


End file.
